


Jaskier and Dandelion

by PurpleGirl7



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Badass female character, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Coming Out, Curses, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Family, Fluff, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Needs a Hug, Good Parent Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Het and Slash, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Kiss Kiss Fall in Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nilfgaard, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Romance, Slash, Slow Burn, Swearing, Touch-Starved Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, brother and sister are best friends, everyone gets a happy ending, phantoms, she gets a happy ending too
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:02:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23493655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurpleGirl7/pseuds/PurpleGirl7
Summary: “It turns out life gave me a blessing instead of you,” Jaskier whispered. “It finally gave me a person who cares about me for being me.”It felt like a punch to the gut. And for a split second, Geralt thought he was going to cry. But he didn’t. He refused to let anyone see how much his words had hurt him.****After the fallout, Jaskier discovers he has a sister. He finally has someone to belong to. However, when he discovers she is cursed, his long-term mission never to see Geralt again is put to the test. And their not so sweet reunion causes Jaskier to acknowledge something about himself that he’s hidden for so long.
Relationships: Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach/Original Female Character(s), Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 25
Kudos: 91





	1. Milkastu Inn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I’m new to The Witcher fandom, and my only experience is with the tv series, so a massive thanks to the wiki for being so informative! I’ve decided that I need some Jaskier and Geralt love in my life, but I wanted a story that is filled with adventure and family as well. So, Jaskier gets a sister who will take on Jaskier’s name from the video games! This is slash which means it will contain sex between two male characters, there will also be het as well!
> 
> [Song: Jordan Clarke - Freaks](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YbsMU0qQTy4)

Chapter One: Milkastu Inn. 

  
  


_Northern Kingdoms, Kaedwen, Blue Mountains, Milkastu Inn._

The clouds were a thick, grey mask in the sky concealing the sun away from the pasty skins of the residents of the Milkastu Inn. There was a large veranda that overlooked the woods that consumed the east face of the Blue Mountains. The trek up to the tavern was worth the view if you didn’t have produce to lug up the uneven steps. A stable rested at the bottom of the steps, and any man who tried to take their steed further than that point was a sycophant who wanted their animal dead. Beyond the tavern were more rocky hills and trees, and if you decided to walk for twenty days straight south, you’d end up finding a group of free elves. Other than that, the main population of the mountains was the lively tavern and the occasional shacks that were buried deep within the woods.

A fire roared in the pit keeping everyone on the veranda warm, but for the skinnier occupants, layers of clothes were needed and plenty of warm ale. The veranda was encircled by wooden railing and although it lacked a roof to shelter them from the snow, thankfully there was no snow during the current evening rush. Travellers, merchants, sorcerers and miners frequented at the inn, the miners more so because of the rich deposits further up the mountain. Ban Ard rested at the bottom of the mountain, and on foot it took a healthy person four days to get there. The city was the second main one of Kaedwen, with the capital being Ard Carraigh the largest of the two. 

Ban Ard was a much loved city of miners and sorcerers. The school for the mages lay in the centre of the city and was known to produce the most respected sorcerers in the continent. The streets of the city were seen as safe for everyone as crime was at its lowest level in years. Kaedwen was always cold but it’s coldest spot was the Blue Mountains where the sun rarely touched the frosty ground, and even if it did, it only filtered through the tightly packed trees. 

The Milkastu Inn was alive on this forming night with cheers, dancing and songs. A group of miners had struck gold and came barrelling through the doors to lift everyone’s spirits. Women were being ravished and men were getting inebriated, all was peaceful and well. 

Out on the veranda, in the top left corner sat a man and a woman. The man plucked the strings of a lute while the woman had her feet resting on the veranda railing and a tankard of mead on the table beside her. To an outsider they were nothing but companions or perhaps a couple, but an icy glare from the woman would be enough to change such a thought. 

They were a family. A brother and a sister. 

Jaskier, the youngest of the pair, had no knowledge of his sister until recently. After circumstances caused him to brood and wander aimlessly, he found himself back at the orphanage he’d grown up in. Then, after getting the elderly matron drunk, she’d confessed that he had an older sister who’d been kidnapped from the orphanage when he was four. He was shocked to his very core, yet, his mind came alight with the knowledge that he now had someone that would want him. So, off he went to find her. He didn’t acknowledge that she might’ve been killed by her kidnappers, and luckily he didn’t, for Dandelion wasn’t a common name and he soon asked the right person who pointed Jaskier on his way. He ended up in Kaedwen soon after, and a trip to the capital brought him across a group of merchants who knew her well. They knew her in a manner of displeasure. She didn’t like them going into the mountains to skin the rare Blue Bears for their fur, and she regularly scared them off. So, off Jaskier went to the Blue Mountains, and in the woods that led to the Milkastu Inn, was a small shack where his purple haired sister resided.

The matron of the orphanage had described her to have blonde hair, but his sister soon explained that she’d allowed a sorceress to change her hair colour after she escaped her kidnappers so they couldn’t find her. Jaskier felt whole again, he felt whole in a way that a certain White Wolf could not make him. His sister, Dandelion, liked his music and smiled at his stories. She found his adventures with ladies to be hysterical and his ramblings of monsters to be exaggerated but interesting nonetheless. However, his sister’s upbringing had changed her. She was like Jaskier when it came to their humour and jokes, but where he was weak in the fighting department, she was not.

He’d never seen someone move so fast; she moved faster than a certain mutated being, and her fighting prowess was woven with stealth and a quick hand. She was never one for heavy weaponry preferring her small daggers. Her whole outfit was designed to hide as many blades on her body as possible, and they’d found themselves in many situations that benefited from that. She wore a white, flowy undershirt that had puffy sleeves that hung off her shoulders and covered the scars there. Her abdomen was covered by a leather corset with straps that forced her chiffon covered breasts up for the male eye to feast upon. Her trousers were leather as well but had a thick inside lined with fur for warmth. Although, Dandelion often said she couldn’t feel the cold. She paired her outfit with black boots with thick soles, and on closer inspection the soles had tiny spikes to help her trek through the snow further up the mountain. She had tiny blades hidden beneath the straps of her corset, two larger blades were strapped to both her forearms hidden by her flowy sleeves. Her belt held her more prized blades that had been crafted with the intention of receiving a high payment. Then, two more blades resided in the neck of her large boots. Jaskier was safe around her. He was safer than ever before. 

Jaskier’s attire was less fancy. He did feel the cold, he felt it all the time. So, he favoured a nice red, snow doublet that was lined with thick fur. His brown trousers were lined with fur also, but thanks to his sister’s nagging, he had a blade strapped to his calf just in case. 

They looked fearsome. Well, Dandelion did, and once again he just looked like the annoying tag-along. That was neither here nor there, at least he now had a companion that appreciated him for who he was rather than screaming at him because they’d had a bad day. 

“Who ordered the Drawyn Grwel, Zervelat, Sallet, Pochee and Cruste Rolle with Yellow Pepper Sauce!” The brown haired woman looked over at the rowdy table of ten men presuming it was for their large party. However, Dandelion’s hand shot up in the air without bothering to look over her shoulder at the woman. 

Jaskier chuckled to himself and waved the woman over. He watched her observe her sister with caution. He didn’t recognise her as a regular worker for the inn so she must be new and had little knowledge of his sister’s large appetite. The hot dishes were put on their small table and Dandelion pushed two gold Ducats her way. The woman left with the money and Jaskier inhaled sharply.

“This smells delicious,” he said, reaching to grab the bowl of Cruste Rolle.

“Leave off!” She smacked his hands away. “I asked you if you wanted anything, and what did you say?”

He rolled his eyes. “No.”

“Your exact words were ‘how could I compromise my figure by having a second dinner’, so either salivate over my delicious dinner or buy your own.”

She flicked her purple hair over her shoulder and started to shovel food into her mouth. Jaskier’s stomach started to grumble and he watched on with sad eyes. Dandelion could truly eat for six men. She was always hungry, and somehow she had the money to keep up such a habit. He’d only asked once how she had so much money, and she’d told him that she got it from doing something she wasn’t proud of then said nothing else. Jaskier concluded that his sister must’ve been a working-woman otherwise vulgarly known as a Whore. He couldn’t see his sister ever engaging in a sexual act, not because she was his sister and it was gross, but because she scared off any man who got too close either by growling or punching them. He couldn’t imagine her doing such a thing willingly. But perhaps she never had a choice. 

Jaskier was short on money. A few of the taverns in Kaedwen paid him to sing, but Dandelion’s refusal to leave Kaedwen limited his money making opportunities. He wasn’t allowed to ask why, and the menacing look she gave him when he tried to push for answers was enough to shut up his running mouth. There are some things he isn’t allowed to know about his sister, yet she knows everything about him.

He’d been honest about his sexual rendezvouses and his adventures with a certain Witcher. He’d been totally honest about all but one thing, and that thing was something Jaskier would take to his grave. He buried the feeling so deep within him that in his darkest moments it consumed him. It didn’t matter now anyway, he had a happy life and someone that loved him. He couldn’t ask for anything else, and he didn’t want anything else anyway. 

“What are we doing tomorrow?” asked Jaskier. 

“Dunno,” she mumbled with her mouth full. “Not heard about the merchants sendin’ their hunters up here in a while. Might go check on the bears.”

Dandelion had a fixation with the Blue Bears. Their navy fur was sought after by the richest of people, so merchants and seamstresses alike wanted to get hold of such a creature. But, Dandelion liked them therefore no one was allowed to harm them. So, most of their time was spent keeping pesky hunters away. The bears resided near the top of the mountain and preferred to be near the rocky springs. They were good at hiding but Dandelion seemed to have a sixth sense for tracking them down. 

Jaskier smirked as she licked her fingers clean. “I bet the men are attracted to your eating etiquette, sister,” she stuck her middle finger up at him.

“Don’t care what they think,” she sipped her mead. “All of ‘em are ugly munters anyway.”

Jaskier gasped. “I’ll have you know I’ve been called beautiful quite a few times.”

“By yourself in the mirror you mean.”

“Argh, how rude!” exclaimed Jaskier leaning his lute against the railing. 

“I’m kiddin’, brother, if you put on a pretty frock you’d make a beautiful woman,” she said with a smirk. 

“I’m a beautiful man!” He proclaimed.

“Men can’t be beautiful,” she pierced a sausage. “Men are brutes.”

“I’m not a brute.”

“Because you ain’t a man.”

Jaskier opened and closed his mouth, then narrowed his eyes. “You are hurting my ego.”

“‘bout time someone did.”

They carried on bickering like any normal siblings, and going against her words, Dandelion allowed Jaskier to have some of her precious food. They laughed and cheered until the sky grew darker and the lanterns that had been hung from nearby trees lit up the night. The owner of the inn, Balk, took pride in the surrounding area. After his wife died a few years back, he had found ways to bring other people joy like his wife had done to him. Jaskier thought it was sweet and wrote a ballad about it while Dandelion gagged and wished the man would fuck someone else and move on. 

The trouble came when one of the miners who had struck gold started to leer at a sorceress nearby. A forceful spell sent him off his feet, then a brawl erupted soon after. It wasn’t until a man was tossed onto their table, squishing Dandelion’s food beneath his beefy back that they got involved in the trouble. In her angry haze, Dandelion got her chair and smashed it over the head of the offending man then jumped — Jaskier swears that sometimes she can fly — into the fight. She didn’t need her blades this time since the men's punches were slower because of the alcohol. She had two men in choke-holds by the time someone approached Jaskier and he started swinging his lute around. Dandelion’s high-pitched laughter caused Jaskier to join in as he ran laps around the veranda trying to avoid the man chasing him. 

He enjoyed adventures like this. With the Witcher it had always involved him being hurt somehow, whether that be physically or emotionally. However, here with his sister, he could laugh without worrying whether he’d see her again the next day. 

Yes, Jaskier was content with his life now no matter how crazy it seemed. He didn’t need the dominating figure of a swordsman by his side. No, all he needed was his big sister — although he was taller than her — and her ferocious attitude. He could die happy now. He could die and take that sick and twisted feeling inside of him happily to his grave. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve prewritten a few chapters, but I didn’t want to get ahead in case nobody likes the story, so please let me know what you think in the comments! There are links below to everything, and some lead to the wiki if like me, your only knowledge is of the tv series!
> 
> [Misty Mountain Gif](https://giphy.com/gifs/misty-austria-rofan-Sye75bfzPZrmo)
> 
> [View from the Milkastu Inn](https://www.stocksy.com/1391318/a-lighted-lamp-on-an-open-veranda-in-a-wooden-house-in-the-mountains)  
> [Dandelion’s Outift Inspo](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/be/e9/e5/bee9e594384cbe71eb67dbdb2130b147.jpg)  
> [What Dandelion Looks Like](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/b7/31/86/b73186bb89b9c38dd89181386a614873.jpg)  
> [Jaskier’s Doublet](https://i.pinimg.com/236x/0d/bd/8f/0dbd8f7d19c58c4537041b88f6300b09--renaissance-dresses-renaissance-fashion.jpg)  
> [Drawyn Grwel](http://giveitforth.blogspot.com/2017/01/harleian-ms-279-ab-1430-xxiiij-drawyn.html)  
> [Zervelat](http://greneboke.com/recipes/zervelat.html)  
> [Sallet](http://medievalcookery.com/recipes/sallet.html)  
> [Pochee](http://medievalcookery.com/recipes/pochee.html)  
> [Cruste Rolle](http://medievalcookery.com/recipes/crusterolle.html)  
> [Yellow Pepper Sauce](http://medievalcookery.com/recipes/yellow.html)  
> [Kaedwen](https://witcher.fandom.com/wiki/Kaedwen)  
> [Ard Carraigh](https://witcher.fandom.com/wiki/Ard_Carraigh)  
> [Ban Ard](https://witcher.fandom.com/wiki/Ban_Ard)  
> [Blue Mountains](https://witcher.fandom.com/wiki/Blue_Mountains)


	2. Somebody Missing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank-you for the comments a kudos for the first chapter! Now, it's time for broody Geralt to make an appearance!
> 
> [Song: Rhodes - Somebody](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sdhDj971H3g)

Chapter Two: Somebody Missing 

_ Northern Kingdoms, Kaedwen, Kaer Morhen.  _

“Step left. Now twist. No — wrong, stop twisting like a Lady!”

There was a chill in the afternoon wind that blew a symphony through the open castle. Its architecture knew a lot about decay, but it decayed in such a beautiful way. The birds flew overhead whistling and squawking in the hopes of finding a feast, while a white haired man sighed into the breeze with a heavy heart.

Geralt stood on the stone balcony that overlooked the courtyard. Ciri was in the middle of her training session with Lambert, which meant she was being shouted at by his scathing tongue for breathing the wrong way. However, she seemed to learn better when being trained by him. 

He’d brought Ciri to Kaer Morhen almost a year ago now. She’d taken to training well, and the remaining witchers found her spirit funny. After their reunion, she’d spoken little of her journey to get to him. He could tell that she was hiding something from him but he chose not to push. He wasn’t sure how to treat her, and the relationship they’d fallen into was that of a father and daughter. Although, Geralt had no idea how to be a father. He would protect her until he took his last breath, but the oddity of the changes a young girl goes through to become a woman were starting to creep up on her, and he had no idea what to do. 

“I am a Lady. What else do you expect?!” Ciri snapped, and Lambert hit her with the wooden sword he held.

“Less chirping, more twisting!”

Geralt had sent a letter to Yennefer not long after their argument, he told her that he’d found Ciri and that he needed her help. The bond that the Djinn had created between them was now gone. He missed the feeling that the bond caused, not her specifically. They were uncertain friends at the moment with their main conversations being about Ciri. He was going to need her more now that Ciri was going through womanly changes while being surrounded by men. However, Yennefer was off getting involved in things that she shouldn’t, so getting a hold of her was proving to be difficult. 

Geralt wasn’t sure how he felt about being back in Kaer Morhen. His life here had been filled with extreme trials and training sessions, as well as being turned into the mutated being he was today. Ciri would never go through that, but the ghosts that haunted this place were a constant reminder of what could happen. 

“She’s getting better,” said Vesemir.

He turned to look at the old witcher. “So it seems.”

“I can sense your worry, Geralt, she’s safe here.”

The truth was, Ciri wasn’t safe anywhere. Nilfgaard still wanted her and he didn’t have an army to back him up. All he could do was teach her how to be strong and protect herself, but even he needed to remember that she was still a child. 

Geralt touched his wolf medallion with a sigh. “Something is out there, Vesemir, something bad.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do,” Geralt gritted his teeth as he watched Ciri move around the courtyard. “Nilfgaard is coming for her, but there’s something else.”

“Witchers can't predict the future, my boy, they never have and they never will.”

Geralt glared at him, then sat down on the stone railing. “I’m doing the right thing?”

“Of course,” replied Vesemir. “Where safer than a place with more than one witcher? We are feared when we travel solo.”

“Not feared by an army though,” Geralt rubbed a hand over his face. 

“What’s really going on Geralt?”

Other than the constant worry and lack of sleep? He’d always struggled with sleep, and for a brief period of time Yen had cured him of that. But now? Now his nights were lonely and cold. He couldn’t seek out a woman to keep him warm because Ciri needed to be kept safe. Knowing his luck, the moment he left the castle, Nilfgaard would turn up and he would be too busy trying to get up a woman’s skirt to save her. That feeling of want was the thing he missed most about the bond. Perhaps he was ready to find someone to build a proper bond with. Witchers were known for feeling little emotions, but it wasn’t true. They felt too much and too often. It was intense but they could hide it well. 

However, finding someone wasn’t an option. Ciri would always be his main priority. Now and always.

“Geralt?” Vesemir pushed. “Talk to me.”

“I’m just tired,” he grumbled. “It’s been a long year.”

“So it has,” Vesemir stepped closer to the railing. “You’ve got to push through the clouds in your mind, Geralt, Ciri is getting better by the day and you are of no use to her being distracted.”

“I know,” said Geralt deeply. “Like I said, I’m just tired.”

Vesemir hummed in response letting Geralt know that he didn’t believe him. The truth was, Geralt hadn’t been the same since finding Ciri. He’d put it down to his argument with Yen, but a whispering voice in his mind kept saying it was something else. Someone else. As he travelled with Ciri to get here, he kept expecting that every tavern and inn would reunite him with a certain bard — that every walk through a city would reveal him to be getting up to mischief. But, he never appeared. He hadn’t seen him since he shouted at him. Geralt knows he was in the wrong, but no apology would reach Jaskier anytime soon if he chose to stay hidden from him. On some of his sleepless nights, Geralt wondered what he was getting up to, what Lady he’d seduced and what Lord he’d royally pissed off. What if he had been cursed and needed his help? The worry was eating him up inside. But no, that wasn’t why his mood had been sour for the past year — it couldn’t be.

“Geralt!” Lambert shouted up at him. “Come and help me with this bunny!”

“Why am I a bunny?” He heard Ciri ask seriously. 

“Because you're hopping around the place rather than moving swiftly.”

Geralt shook his head at Vesemir then walked inside with a sigh. He moved through the castle with heavy shoulders, hoping that this day would end soon. He made his way out into the courtyard and retrieved a wooden sword. Lambert continued to berate Ciri every time she got something wrong until Geralt told him to leave. He continued training Ciri until night fell and the pair moved into the Dining Hall. The stone hall was being kept warm by the large fireplace near the long table. The other occupants and witchers of the castle sat around eating without them, and as they joined them Eskel started asking Ciri about her training. 

Eskel was the kindest of her teachers, and her training sessions with him were more relaxed and slow. Ciri always returned laughing about her day when she spent it with Eskel as opposed to when she came back aching and crying from being with Lambert. Her other teacher, Coën, was not as gentle as Eskel but not as harsh as Lambert, and Geralt knew Ciri preferred being taught by him. He was fairly calm and he focused on teaching her rather than getting to know her or shouting expletives at her. Geralt trained her alongside her teachers sometimes, other than that he only did personal sessions with her occasionally. He hated the idea of hurting her, even if it would be accidental. 

He’d grown up with Eskel while they both trained at the school. Geralt considered him a close friend, although his calming nature confused him and annoyed him, he would always be his brother. He didn’t have much of a bond with the other two witchers, but they were still his brothers by some unspoken witcher rule.

This had been his life for the past year. After this meal he would retire to his room and stare at the ceiling until the sun came back up. He wasn’t sure he could cope with it any longer. There was something missing from his life and he needed to find it. He needed to find it now. A part of him told him that he already had what he needed: Ciri. But why did it feel like he was missing half of his soul? 

Geralt grabbed the tankard full of ale and chugged most of it down. Sometimes alcohol made him sleep. The more he consumed, the more tired he would get, right? He grabbed the nearby pitcher and refilled his tankard. Falling into a drunken sleep would be his aim for tonight then.

But what if Nilfgaard turned up and he was drunk. He slammed down the pitcher and pushed away his tankard. No drunken sleep for him tonight.

“Are you all right?” Ciri whispered.

“Fine.”

She furrowed her brows. “Your grunts do nothing to reassure me.”

“I don’t grunt.”

“Whatever you say,” she muttered then nibbled on some chicken.

Geralt soon moved to retire to his room after getting Ciri to promise that she would go to her own room after a while. He watched her from the doorway as she laughed with Eskel with a small smile tugging at his lips. At least being here made her happy, even if it did make him miserable. He walked through the castle and into his room. His bed was cold and lonely as he lay down and stared at the ceiling. 

He was left to his own thoughts, to his own feelings, and he hated that as a man who could move unfazed in a battle, he couldn’t work out the thoughts in his head. By the Gods he was lonely, but he had always been lonely and it hadn’t bothered him before. So what had changed? If anything, the feeling should have disappeared. He was back at the school surrounded by Vesemir and his witcher brothers. He hated not knowing. Something inside of him wanted something and he just needed to know what it was. 

How long did he lay there unmoving? He had no idea. All of this was normal. That was until the knocking broke him from his trance. Geralt rushed over and flung open the door to find Eskel standing there nervously. 

“What?”

“Erm...well…I…”

“Spit it out!”

“I accidentally gave her White Gull!”

White Gull was an alcoholic potion. Geralt’s grip tightened around the door. “Gave who White Gull?” His tone was deadly.

“Ciri.”

Geralt grabbed his sword and followed Eskel as he fled down the hall. He would kill him after he checked on her. They ended up back in the Dining Hall. Geralt was angry when he realised Ciri had disobeyed him by not going to her room, but the vacant look on her face flooded his anger with panic. He raced over to where she sat and stared down at her. She was looking at a spot on the floor, not blinking.

“How did this happen?!” He roared.

“I swear, Geralt, she told me that she was aching from her training session so I grabbed her a potion. I didn’t read the label.”

“Why wouldn’t you read the label, Eskel?!”

He held his hands up. “I’m sorry, Geralt. They have the same colour, so I just grabbed it and gave it to her. Is she having an allergic reaction?”

“You better hope she fucking isn’t!”

Geralt placed his hand on her forehead, but her temperature was normal. He crouched down and tried to gain her attention. No matter how much he shook her or tapped her face she wouldn’t respond. 

“What’s going on?” A tired Vesemir walked into the room. “I heard shouting.”

“He gave Ciri some White Gull!” yelled Geralt. “I can’t believe I trusted you to watch her.”

“Don’t be so harsh, Geralt,” Vesemir approached them and touched Ciri’s shoulder. “How long has she been like this?”

“Not long,” added Eskel. “Geralt, I’m sorry.”

Geralt pinned him with a glare, then focused on Ciri. 

“This isn’t an allergic reaction is it?” 

“I don’t think so,” replied Vesemir. “Let’s give her a few moments—“

Ciri blinked a few times, and just as Geralt moved to embrace her, a scream that he had once heard coming from her mother tore from her lips. All three of them were sent flying across the room and rolling along the stone floor. Cutlery and food went flying, candles were extinguished and glass shattered. 

The silence after was harrowing. 

Geralt pushed himself to his knees gasping for air. He stared at a fallen Ciri with wide eyes. She was curled up on the floor unconscious. 

“Shit…” grunted Eskel nearby. “What was that?”

Geralt tried to rummage through his scrambled thoughts. How had he not drawn the connection sooner? Her mother, Pavetta, had been a Source. He should’ve known that this would happen; he should’ve known that the changes Ciri was going through weren’t pertained to her becoming a woman. She was becoming what her mother had been — uncontrollable. And, once again, Geralt had no idea how to deal with it.

Vesemir struggled to his feet on the other side of the room. He went over to Ciri to check if she was hurt, then he locked eyes with Geralt, and all he could say in response was:

“Fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave me a comment if you feel inclined! Next chapter will bring Jaskier a step closer to Geralt ;)
> 
> [Kaer Morhen Gif](https://66.media.tumblr.com/ac63a94c14e7839152f5b897386909d5/ed08d74d0314f3bc-75/s500x750/0fcf3c4f9ccf4cf7a5e151d11950d3bba4fba701.gifv)  
> [Kaer Morhen](https://witcher.fandom.com/wiki/Kaer_Morhen)  
> [Vesemir](https://witcher.fandom.com/wiki/Vesemir)  
> [Lambert](https://witcher.fandom.com/wiki/Lambert)  
> [Eskel](https://witcher.fandom.com/wiki/Eskel)  
> [Coën](https://witcher.fandom.com/wiki/Co%C3%ABn)  
> [White Gull](https://witcher.fandom.com/wiki/White_Seagull)


	3. Creature In The Night

Chapter Three: Creature In The Night. 

_Northern Kingdoms, Kaedwen, Blue Mountains._

“Ow...stop—stop! What part of stop didn’t you understand?!”

Dandelion scoffed at Jaskier’s whining. 

“‘Tis but a scratch, brother.”

A scratch? Was she off with the fairies? Jaskier glanced down at the large gash on his calf. He’d been taking a morning walk through the woods when he got caught in a net meant for a deer and cut himself down with a dagger, then tripped down an embankment and cut his leg on a rock. To say he’d had a productive morning was an understatement.

Dandelion had found him shortly after the tumble and climbed down to help, but not before laughing so hard that she had to clutch her stomach. 

“That is not a scratch,” he hissed through his teeth. “Do something!”

“You’re cryin’ like a baby cuz I touched it, you ain’t makin’ it through stitches.”

“Just do it!” He yelled.

Thankfully his sister was strong. She’d managed to drag him all the way back to their little shack. He’d rather not be doing this on the cold ground. 

It had been a few weeks since the incident at the inn. Balk banned them from coming back ever again, but Dandelion could be persuasive when she needed to be. She offered him a pouch of Ducats to help repair the damages, and as of today, the ban was lifted and they could return to their favourite hideaway. 

Jaskier watched her retrieve a needle and thread. “I hope you know what you are doing.”

“I’ve stitched myself up a few times.”

Jaskier cried out as she grabbed his leg. “That doesn’t reassure me! You are covered in scars!”

She gave him a toothy grin. “Suck it up, buttercup!”

And so, Jaskier did just that. He screamed and cried as she got to work. She kept making jokes and laughing at his pain, so he hit her hard up the back of the head and she threatened to leave him half stitched up. He apologised profusely and expressed his undying love for her. She finished soon after then added more wood onto the fire to keep him warm. He became delirious and started spouting heaps of crap about the magical creatures he could see around him. She hushed him with a damp cloth to the forehead, and within moments, he slipped off to sleep. 

When he awoke, it was dark. He’d slept the day away. He sat up with a groan and rubbed his tired eyes. The shack only had one room. A single bed was pushed in the far left corner, and when he realised she wasn’t there, he assumed she’d gone to the outhouse. He waited a while but when she didn’t come back, worry consumed him. 

Dandelion disappeared now-and-then. It happened at nighttime, but she’d be back by morning. She had reassured him that she was just having some personal time. He didn’t believe her. But, he’d learnt not to push her on certain matters. It didn’t matter anyway, he liked some time to himself which was why he took walks some mornings without her. They all needed space to think. 

Jaskier pulled up his trouser leg and saw the bandages wrapped around his calf. This was going to hurt. He pushed himself off the sofa with a pathetic whimper, then used it to support his hobble closer to the door. He took in a staggered breath then tried to walk unaided; it took a few laps around the room until he could walk without needing to stop every few steps. He went over to the door and opened it slowly. The outhouse door was open and as he made his way over he spotted that it was empty. 

“Dandelion!” He looked into the darkness surrounding the trees. 

Panic consumed him. What if she was hurt? He couldn’t protect her because of his leg. Not that he would’ve been much use to her uninjured, but at least he would have had a fighting chance. He took off into the woods to find his purple-haired sister. Perhaps he should’ve stayed at the shack until it was light again. Perhaps he should’ve done a lot of things, but Jaskier wasn’t known for thinking ahead. He scoured the woods calling out her name.

It was unbelievably dark and chilly. Every distant tree looked like a ghoul ready to pounce on him. He hated this feeling. He hated the cold. And now more than ever, he hated the dark.

“Dandelion! This better be a joke — I really hope you jump out on me!” It was getting harder to see in front of him, and even colder. He leaned against a nearby tree and rubbed his arms. Why would she wander so far away?

“Come on, Dandelion! This isn’t funny—“

A loud shriek sliced through the night and Jaskier’s eyes went comically wide. 

“Nope, definitely not doing that!” He started to walk back towards the shack. “I’m not dealing with any monsters — you’re on your own!”

And what a cruel thing that was for him to say. Jaskier paused, groaned then started walking towards the noise. His leg throbbed and begged for him to stop but he had to see if his sister was all right. He came to a rocky part of the steady slope that led down to Ban Ard. There was a large mound of rocks that created a small cave, and when Jaskier spotted something moving inside he scurried behind a tree. His heart hammered against his rib cage, and he prayed that a certain someone would come along and save him.

No — No! He didn’t need him! He’ll never need him again, not now that he has his sister!

Jaskier peaked around the tree and his thundering heart hit the ground. “No…” he gasped. “No.” 

He watched as his once purple haired sister stepped from the cave. Her skin was now white, her eyes yellow, her nails sharp and black — and her hair was bright red. And she was naked. Very naked. A pointy set of fangs glistened in the moonlight as she tilted her head to scan the tree line. Jaskier was back behind the tree with his hand over his mouth. That was undoubtedly his sister, but how?

A curse. She's been cursed!

Tears welled up in his eyes. Why couldn’t his life just be easy? Why couldn’t Dandelion’s life be easy? She’d suffered enough at the hands of evil men and women, and now she was cursed. And now he needed to save her. 

Jaskier waited. He waited until light consumed the sky and clouds rolled over to block the sun. He waited because he loved her and she loved him. He waited because she was the only thing he had left. A yelp and a groan of pain pulled him to his stiff knees. He looked around the tree at the cave and saw his dishevelled sister back to normal. She started to put her clothes back on and Jaskier gave her a few moments of privacy before he hobbled towards her. He wasn’t exactly quiet, so her back stiffened before she turned to stare at him.

“Mornin’ Jaskier,” she said with confidence set to deter him. “How’s your leg? You were out for quite a while.”

“Who cursed you?”

“Excuse me?”

“Who cursed you?” He repeated. 

Dandelion’s face fell. “I don’t know what you mean, brother.”

“I’m not stupid, Dandelion, so don’t treat me that way. I saw you.”

She walked over to him with a glare. “You didn’t see shit, understand?” She could pass off threatening very well, and when she didn’t make him feel love and affection he felt scared of her. But now she was his lifeline and he needed to save her.

“But I did, dear sister,” he crossed his arms. “Who cursed you?”

Suddenly, tears welled up in her eyes and Jaskier reeled away from her. She hadn’t cried when they’d been reunited. She never cried. Jaskier’s mouth fell open, then he pulled her against his chest ignoring the pain in his leg.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered into her hair. “I know I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Shut up, Jaskier,” she whispered. “You have every right to know…” she pulled away and stared up at him. “It was the people who kidnapped me, and at every full moon I turn into a monster.”

“A sexy one.”

She burst out laughing. “Ew, Jaskier, I’m your sister.”

“And a mighty fine sister you are.”

“Stop! Gross!” She cackled deep within her throat. “Let’s go back to the shack.”

She helped support Jaskier as they headed through the woods back to their home. Home. Jaskier has never had a home before. 

“We were supposed to go back to the Inn last night,” grumbled Jaskier. “You owe me a meal.”

“Hey, you were the one that hurt his leg. You wouldn’t have made it up there anyway.”

“You still owe me.”

“Fine,” she grunted and put him down on the wooden step that led up to the shack. “Let me have a look at your leg.”

Dandelion pulled up his trouser leg to find the bandage bloody. A few of his stitches had come loose from his trek into the night. She scolded him with a pinch to his wound, and Jaskier screamed then got her in a headlock to ruffle her hair. She beat him off with solid fists and glared ferociously at him before laughing her head off.

They let silence consume them. The woods were always quiet first thing in the morning. Jaskier has never been so at peace, but he had a feeling it wouldn’t last for too long. He glanced at Dandelion with sad eyes.

“I…” he swallowed hard. “There are plenty of sorcerers in Ban Ard who could try to help you.”

Dandelion rubbed her eyes then sighed. “Yes and they gossip. I don’t want everyone knowing about it.”

“Why?” He asked seriously.

“I have a reputation to keep up,” she replied with a smirk.

“Dandelion?”

“Fine,” she hissed. “Although I don’t remember the specifics of the night, it was some hag who my kidnappers had hired. If news gets out they’ll be able to track me down, Jaskier, and I’ve worked so hard to stay hidden. I never told my kidnappers my real name, but if they hear about a girl with a curse like mine they’ll come up here searching for me.”

Jaskier buried his face in his hands. He knew what needed to be done, but he wasn’t ready. A simple trip to Ban Ard would lead them to someone who knew exactly where to find a certain someone who knew where a certain mage who could help them would be. Although he didn’t like them any longer, he could trust them not to tell anyone else.

“What is it?” Dandelion asked. 

“I know someone who can help,” he said.

“Oh…” she observed him closely then her eyes widened slightly. “Jaskier, no, I wasn’t hinting at you to offer me that. I know you don’t want to see them again.”

“It doesn’t matter about that,” he reached out and touched her shoulder. “All that matters is that I get you back to normal.”

She looked like she wanted to confess something, but she kept her mouth shut and nodded her head. He agreed to rest for the remainder of the day after she redid his stitches. They talked about the littlest of things, but Jaskier could see that something was bothering his sister, something beyond the curse. Whenever Jaskier caught her eye she would smile in response, which was out of character for her. She usually smiled then insulted him. She was never sweet or nice for the sake of being nice. 

Jaskier chose not to dwell on it, rather his mind was too focused on what he needed to do and who he needed to find. There in the deepest parts of his mind was that feeling again, threatening to break free and destroy Jaskier’s life. He couldn’t acknowledge it — he wouldn’t. A feeling like that in some parts of the continent could get a person hanged.

And Jaskier would like his throat kept pale and rope burn free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I appreciate feedback and comments make me write quicker! Next chapter will be the one where they meet again!


	4. A Vice Around The Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so they are reunited!
> 
> [Song: Jaymes Young – Habits of My Heart](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OSguyCL68Kc&list=PLRb-VGJ4gkegmzOAhTDZ66gPNCOtHUTG9&index=68)

Chapter Four: A Vice Around The Heart. 

_Northern Kingdoms, Kaedwen, Ban Ard._

Geralt listened to the rhythmic beat of the horses hooves against the cobblestone. It was colder in Ban Ard than it was at the school. That wasn’t what bothered him about this place though. Yes, there were people here who were known to help Sources, and he knew that Ciri would find people here who she could relate to. However, there was something daunting about the city as they approached. Geralt could feel that there was something within it that spelled trouble. Or perhaps he was just imagining things from lack of sleep. 

The silence from his party was deafening somehow and he found himself wishing for someone to fill it. He once knew someone that would fill such a pause with utter nonsense, and by the Gods did he miss him. But he wouldn’t admit it to anyone. Never. 

As they neared the entrance, people started to notice the travelling party of witchers. A few gasped and others looked on with distrust. He’d seen that look on many faces, and he’d only ever seen it on one face that he wished he hadn’t. A certain bard had shown such an expression for a split second before he fled down the mountain. 

None of that mattered now. At least, that’s what he’ll keep telling himself. 

Geralt grabbed Ciri’s reins to guide her horse closer to his. “I’m more than capable,” she said, and he hummed in response. “You really need to learn to be more expressive, Geralt.”

He hummed again and Ciri scoffed, rolling her eyes.

“What’s it like here?”

“I’ve never ventured into Ban Ard before, but I know that the mages here can help you. They are known for it.”

“Truly? Can they help me?”

He nodded. “I’m not sure who else to go to, Ciri.”

“What about Yennefer?”

“I don’t know where she is,” he grunted. “Yen does what she pleases, but I’m sure she’ll catch up to us soon.”

“I miss her.”

“Yeah, me too.”

It was true. He did miss her. She was one of the rare people who could keep up with him and saw through his Witcher facade. There was nothing romantic between them anymore, and no matter how much he tried to entertain the idea, Yen had gone back to being just like every other woman. He felt nothing when she touched his arm. No warmth. No wholeness. Absolutely nothing, and it hurt.

They came to a stop outside a holding stable and Vesemir got off first to pay the stout man who guarded it. Eskel offered his hand to Ciri and she took it with a smile. Geralt had been giving him the silent treatment during their three day journey. Every time Eskel came to sit beside him he would move away. He’d forgive him eventually, he was just still trying to come to terms with what his mistake had revealed.

Coën had stayed behind to watch over the castle, and normally it would be Vesemir who stayed but he was interested in solving the mystery of Ciri so he tagged along. Unfortunately that meant Lambert had come with them, and the damned fool kept spouting bullshit every time Geralt attempted to get some sleep. 

Geralt got off Roach with a huff then patted his side. He moved to reach into one of the saddlebags when something caught his eye. It was the unique movement of his hands that caused Geralt’s heart to race. Could it possibly be? He was walking away before he could second guess himself, and approached the stall where the familiar man was bartering with the owner. 

He slammed his hand down on a blue doublet and whirled the surprised man around. It wasn’t him. And he’d just scared the poor man half to death.

“Can I help you?”

“No,” he grunted. “Sorry.”

Geralt stormed off mentally scolding himself. Had he really resulted to hallucinating now? Yes, he’d looked like the bard from behind, but was he really expecting him to be happy to see him. Geralt remembered all the harsh things he’d said, and the look of pain that had flashed over his face briefly at the time was ingrained in Geralt's mind. It was a stupid thing to get excited about, seeing him again wouldn’t be a joyous occasion. 

He shook his head and followed after the group. Ciri stayed by his side as they pushed through the crowd, and every so often he would force her cloak hood back on her head. He couldn’t risk anyone recognising her out in the open. Vesemir led them to the school for mages and they were greeted by a ginger haired woman and a bald, brown skinned man. 

“Vesemir,” her voice was unnaturally high. “How can we help you?”

“Selexa, it is something I must discuss with you in private, away from any prying ears,” he glanced at the crowds. 

“Of course, follow me.”

Geralt watched Vesemir head inside and he urged Ciri to follow but she wanted to look around the market. He reluctantly followed behind her making sure no one got too close. Lambert disappeared with parting words of finding some tail, and Geralt watched him go with the shake of his head.

There was something about Ban Ard that unsettled him. He turned to look at the imposing mountain in the distance. The tightly packed trees moved in the sharp wind and the clouds rolled over the peaks. He’d ventured up onto the Blue Mountains a few times, but that had been further down south where the weather was warmer and the peaks lower. 

Ciri stopped at a jewellery stall and admired the fine craftsmanship. She wouldn’t be allowed the fine things she’d been used to anymore, so it made sense that a part of her would still cling to that. He watched her fawn over a necklace with sad eyes. He couldn’t give her what she wanted, but he had to do what he had to do to keep her safe. 

Suddenly a bell started ringing. Geralt glanced around and spotted a small man standing on a table holding a piece of parchment. “Listen up! A group of wealthy merchants are looking for a handful of skilled hunters and archers to head into the Blue Mountains. They are willing to pay two hundred ducats to each individual who partakes in the expedition. They’ll be waiting in Chelten’s Square!”

Eskel whistled. “Two hundred ducats? That’s the type of money you pay when death is likely.”

Geralt grunted in agreement, still unwilling to talk to him. He glanced back at the Blue Mountains and wondered whether it was the animal’s up there that were dangerous or the people. 

“Can we?” Ciri asked suddenly.

“What?”

“Can we go on the expedition?”

“Of course,” she smiled. “Not.”

She rolled her eyes. “Please Geralt! I can use a bow and arrow!”

He quickly glanced at the necklace she’d been admiring and realised it cost one hundred and eight-one ducats. So that was why she was so keen. She didn’t want to learn, she wanted jewellery. 

“I’m in,” said Eskel, and Geralt glared at him. “Come on, Mister White Wolf, live a little.”

Ciri placed her hand on his arm and looked up at him with eyes that sparkled.

“Fine,” he grunted. “But if there’s any sign of trouble we are leaving.”

“Yes!” She asked the stall owner where the square was and he pointed down the street. 

He hoped Vesemir was doing well to persuade Selexa to help Ciri. If he could persuade her to teach Ciri control, then they could forget about the expedition and he’d find another way to get her the necklace she wanted so badly. They made their way out into the square to find a small crowd around a table where four finely dressed men stood. Yes, they probably could afford to pay people so much. The real question was why the journey would be so dangerous? Or was the creature they needed to be killed rare?

Ciri joined the back of the crowd and waved Geralt over. “Come on!” She squealed excitedly and pushed through the wave of men. Eskel smirked at him and gave him the go ahead. He didn’t need to push as the men moved away from him; it offended him greatly but he’d grown used to it. Ciri was at the table being observed by amused eyes.

“I must say, you are the youngest.”

“Age doesn’t matter. I’m excellent with a bow and arrow!”

The elderly man with grey hair chuckled. “She’s got fire. I like her.”

And Geralt didn’t like them. They clearly didn’t mind sending a young girl to her death up a mountain. He moved up behind Ciri and the men finally looked at him.

“The Witcher.”

Ciri glanced back at him with a sigh. “Yes it is. And yes he’ll be coming with me. So, can we go?”

“She’s definitely something,” the one with brown hair said.

“She asked you a question,” said Geralt. “Answer her.”

“You don’t even know what you are hunting yet,” the grey haired one raised his brow. 

“Tell her then,” Geralt folded his arms over his chest. 

“Blue Bears,” he replied. “And anyone who gets in your way.”

Geralt almost laughed. So someone was protecting the animals and they wanted them dead. He was hiring mercenaries not hunters. 

“I’m sure you can leave the human to the White Wolf.”

Geralt hummed with a tilt of his head. Ciri’s shoulders slumped then she walked away from the table. He followed after her and when he caught up with her, he grabbed her shoulder.

“What’s wrong?”

“I wanted the money,” she hung her head. “But I don’t want to kill someone who's trying to protect the animals. I heard of Blue Bear’s back in Cintra. They are extremely rare, and there were rumours that someone up the mountain was hiding them away from hunters.”

“You’ve a good heart.”

She looked up at him with a quivering lip then wrapped her arms around his waist. He patted her head and held her tight. “Let’s go and find Vesemir.” He nodded to Eskel who disappeared from the square to get ahead. 

Suddenly, he saw a flash of purple out the corner of his eye. The woman seemed to fly out of nowhere and he watched the grey haired merchant fall to the floor with a yelp. The crowd around the table quickly dispersed leaving it easier for Geralt to see what had happened. The man was being pinned to the table with a sharp dagger pressed to his throat.

He tried to ignore it. He truly did. But one look down at Ciri told him that he needed to help the defenceless man. He pulled out his sword and stalked over.

“Let him go,” he grunted. 

The purple haired woman slowly raised her eyes to his, and Geralt was stumped. She looked like someone, but he had no idea who. She raked her eyes over him, smirked then pressed the knife harder against the man’s throat. 

Her ferociousness brought forth a revelation: she was the human protecting the animals. He could be wrong, and she might just be an unhinged woman, but she looked ready to rip the man’s throat out because he’d personally offended her.

“Told ya to stop,” her broken common speech showed her lack of education. “Warned you I’d slit your throat otherwise.”

“You don’t own them,” he whispered. “They are free game.”

The man didn’t know when to shut up, and Geralt couldn’t help stupid. He sighed and realised Ciri was beside him with her sword drawn. “Put that away,” he grumbled.

“I want to help her.”

“Her?” Geralt couldn’t stop the smirk that grew on his face. Moments ago she was more than happy to take the money and go up the mountain, but now she was ready to help a stranger. She truly was remarkable.

The glint from a sword brought his attention away from Ciri, and the brown haired merchant had pulled out a sword ready to swing it at her back. Geralt charged forward but he skidded to a halt when a slender, red clad man raced out of the alley behind the stall and jumped onto the man’s back.

“Get off me!” He tried to throw the man off him.

“No can do!” 

Oh. 

Oh. 

Geralt recognised that voice. How could he ever forget it? Something painful laced around his heart and he watched with wide eyes as Jaskier rode the man’s back like a bull. He was laughing. He’d forgotten how much he’d missed his laughter. He looked different. Their travels up the mountain with Yennefer had caused his clothes to become baggier, but now he was more full; he filled out his clothes perfectly. His hair was a bit longer and darker, and he’d definitely grown more daring. Jaskier pulled out a dagger from somewhere and placed it against the man’s throat. 

And why did that excite Geralt more?

Jaskier climbed off the man’s back keeping the dagger at his throat. He smiled over at the purple haired woman, then he finally looked around and his eyes landed on Geralt.

And his smile vanished.

What was he supposed to do now? Geralt swallowed the lump in his throat, then offered him a wave. Pathetic. That was pathetic. Why did he do that? If he was capable of blushing, he would be as red as a tomato right now. 

Jaskier’s hand faltered and the merchant took advantage of that and elbowed him in the stomach. Geralt leapt over the table ready to disarm the man, but the purple haired woman moved quicker than a witcher was capable of. She grabbed the man and slammed him down onto the table, and before the other merchant could flee, she crushed his hand to the wood and plunged a knife into his palm. The scream ripped through the square and Geralt stared at her in horror. 

What kind of company was Jaskier keeping?

“Now!” She stepped away with a sigh. “Do I need to explain it to you again?”

The grey haired man whimpered. “You bitch!”

She laughed. “I guess so. You won’t be sending anyone up the mountain anymore, will you?”

The one who’d elbowed Jaskier tried to get up but she slammed him back down. 

“Will you?” She hissed.

“No — no we won’t!”

“Good,” she let him go. “Now, run along.”

The man looked at his friend and she rolled her eyes, stormed over and pulled the knife from his hand. His friends dragged the crying man away from the square and she watched them leave with a smile.

“I’d say that was successful, wouldn’t you?” She whirled around on her heel to face Jaskier.

He finally turned to look at Jaskier, and he was staring at Geralt with a blank expression on his face. That tight feeling was becoming unbearable around his heart. What did it mean? He should apologise now. Shouldn’t he? 

“Jaskier…” Geralt coughed to clear his throat. “Jaskier...I…”

Why wouldn’t his words come out? All he needed to do was say ‘I’m sorry’, that was all! 

“Oh,” the woman came up beside him. “The famous White Wolf.”

Geralt turned to look at her. Why did she look familiar? It took him a few moments, but as he looked back at Jaskier then returned his eyes to her, he realised that there was a likeness about them. 

“I’m his sister.”

Well that made sense. He had a sister? Geralt returned his attention to Jaskier who was still unmoving. Why hadn’t he said something to him before? Jaskier took a few staggered steps forward and Geralt reached out to stop him from falling on his face, but he pulled away violently as if Geralt had burnt him. 

“Jaskier, please…”

“Geralt!” Ciri called out, and he finally became aware of a cold blade against his neck. 

He’d let his guard down for a split second. When did that ever happen? Never.

“Refrain from touchin’ my brother.”

“I was trying to help,” he said through gritted teeth. 

“Don’t care. Don’t touch.”

She removed the blade and helped Jaskier stand up straight. “Is it your leg?”

What was wrong with his leg? Did he need help? Geralt fought away the urge to put his hands on Jaskier to check for injuries. 

“Probably shouldn’t have jumped on him,” Jaskier’s voice was rough as he finally looked away from Geralt. 

Why was he sweating? It’s snowing for goodness sake!

Jaskier pushed himself away from his sister and straightened out his doublet. Then, he whispered something that even his witcher senses couldn’t pick up on, and a sad look appeared on his sister’s face. “I’ve been looking for you,” it took Geralt a moment before he realised Jaskier was talking to him. “I need your help.”

Why did that mean everything to him? His heart thundered in his chest. “Anything.”

He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but Geralt would happily give him the world if it meant they could be friends again. Friends? Why did that word lack its impact all of a sudden? 

Jaskier walked closer in visible discomfort. He looked at Ciri with a confused expression for a few moments, then sighed as he focused on him. 

“I need to find Yennefer.”

No, ‘how have you been?’ No, ‘I missed you’. Just ‘where’s Yennefer?’. By the Gods, that hurt. 

“I haven’t been able to contact her in a while,” he replied honestly.

“Damn it.”

Jaskier turned to walk away but Geralt grabbed his elbow and pulled him back. “Look, Jaskier, I’m sorry.”

There he’d said it. And now Jaskier was extremely close. He smelled different — a good kind of different. Whatever that meant anyway. His eyes roamed over his soft features, and for a moment Geralt’s mind ceased thinking. His heart was going to explode any moment now.

“You’re sorry.”

“Yes,” he grunted.

Jaskier waved his hand at his sister who tried to come at Geralt. “It turns out life gave me a blessing instead of you,” Jaskier whispered. “It finally gave me a person who cares about me for being me.”

It felt like a punch to the gut. And for a split second, Geralt thought he was going to cry. But he didn’t. He refused to let anyone see how much his words had hurt him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be a longer chat in the next chapter and Jaskier needs more time to be pissed at him! Thoughts are appreciated!
> 
> [Ban Ard](https://witcher.fandom.com/wiki/Ban_Ard)  
> [Market Street](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/39/0c/54/390c5498235ccc09a96566837690ecda.jpg)  
> [Chelten’s Square](https://www.motosha.com/wp-content/uploads/medieval-market-square-1024x683.jpg)  
> [The Necklace Ciri Was Looking At](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/5c/6b/2a/5c6b2a24e6aacc300c56634a36fa49a9.jpg)


	5. The Bard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier discovers something about himself...
> 
> [Song: Amarante - The Other Side](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9CifTAyCjJQ&list=RD9CifTAyCjJQ&start_radio=1)

Chapter Five: The Bard. 

_Northern Kingdoms, Kaedwen, Ban Ard._

Jaskier thought that had gone well. He hadn’t hit him. His voice hadn’t wavered. Dandelion had been there to threaten him. All was well. 

“He’s following us.”

He stopped walking down the bustling street to look over his shoulder, and sure enough, Geralt was forcing his way through the crowds. 

“Can you run?” She looked down at his sore leg. The cut had healed well during their travel down the mountain, but that was because they’d used Dandelion’s horse and cart. He’d been happy laying there staring up at the trees while she navigated down the uneven path. 

“What does he want?” He turned to her and she shrugged her shoulders.

“Perhaps to make sweet love to you?”

Jaskier’s face flooded with colour and he hit her arm. “Don’t say things like that, it’s disgusting!”

“Being with another man is disgusting?”

“Yes!”

At least, that’s what he’s always been told.

“But Jaskier?”

“What?”

“You’re a girl, remember?”

He almost laughed. Almost. She pulled on his arm but he stayed grounded. “I’ll talk to him.”

“He said he can’t help us,” she whispered. “Jaskier, I’ve lived with this for so long, it’s all right.”

“You were cursed, sister, and I need to help you. It’s my brotherly duty too.”

“No, it’s not,” she growled. “Just let it go!”

He gave her an odd look. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“Are you calling me a liar?” She said defensively. 

“Should I be?”

He managed to dodge the fist she threw at him. “Go and talk to your precious witcher.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She stuck up her middle finger then disappeared down a nearby alley. Jaskier sighed and made the decision to follow her, but Geralt caught up to him.

“Jaskier.”

Why was his heart aching? He turned to look at him with the overwhelming feeling of anger resting heavily on his shoulders. Jaskier wanted to push him and beat his chest, but even that wouldn’t faze Geralt. It probably wouldn’t make him move.

He kept telling himself not to look into his enchanting eyes, but his own body betrayed his mind and he stared into them. Gods was he going to cry? Because he could feel tears burning his eyes and his throat was starting to swell. 

That feeling was beginning to push against its cage. 

“What?” He replied through gritted teeth. “What do you want?”

“I...you can’t just...Jaskier — why won’t my fucking words come out!” 

Jaskier stared at him with wide eyes. There was something off about him. It was his face. All of a sudden Jaskier could read his emotions. Why was he so expressive? And who was the girl? She caught up to Geralt and gave him an odd look.

“Is your sister the one protecting the Blue Bears then?”

Gods, she sounded adorable. “Yes,” Jaskier rubbed his face and ignored the way Geralt was staring at him. “She’s been keeping them safe for years.”

“They wanted her dead.”

“I know, fortunately, nothing can kill her.”

She wasn’t immortal by any stretch of the imagination. Definitely not. But, Jaskier had seen her come out unscathed after having twenty men surrounding her with weapons. In his eyes, nothing and no one could kill her. 

“What’s her name?” She asked.

“Dandelion.”

“The famous Dandelion,” Jaskier whirled around to acknowledge the new voice. An elderly man with white hair approached them, and Jaskier realised he must be a witcher.

“How do you know her?” Jaskier asked defensively.

“Word gets around, especially about a purple haired woman causing havoc up the Blue Mountains. I’m Vesemir.”

“Jaskier.”

“Oh,” he came to stand beside Geralt with a smirk. “You're the bard?”

Had Geralt told him about him? Why did that make his heart swell? Jaskier tried to shake the feeling off, but it wouldn’t bloody disappear. So what if he mentioned him to other people? It didn’t mean anything. Geralt couldn’t feel emotions; he was incapable of caring about someone, especially not him, a man.

“Look, I need to go and find my sister.”

“Why do you need Yennefer?” Geralt asked deeply. 

Jaskier opened and closed his mouth. He contemplated whether to tell him. Perhaps he could still help her? Was he sleeping with another mage that could keep it a secret and help Dandelion? Probably. Geralt was irresistible everywhere he went, and every time they’d been travelling and he disappeared with a woman, Jaskier felt obliged to do the same. He had to do something to fight the loneliness that had consumed his heart. But why did it always hurt the most when he watched Geralt touch another woman?

He was going to have to end his mission to never spend time with Geralt again, because he was the only person that might know what could be done to save her. 

“I need help…” he had to step closer to them so no one around would overhear. Geralt’s nose twitched then he inhaled sharply. 

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

“My sister,” he stepped even closer then whispered. “Is cursed.”

Geralt continued to stare at him blankly. A moment ago he’d thought him to be expressive but now he’d gone back to being cold. 

It was Vesemir who spoke next. “Let me gather the others and we will go and find your sister.”

“Thank-you,” Jaskier smiled at him. 

Why couldn’t Geralt be like this witcher? Jaskier liked this one very much! They waited in the nearby alley for Vesemir to return, and Jaskier leaned against the wall ignoring the daggers Geralt was glaring at him. Why was he angry at him? It was Geralt’s fault in the first place.

“I’m Ciri by the way,” the blonde girl said after a while.

“Nice to meet you, Ciri…” Jaskier looked at her closely. She didn’t look like a ruffian. So what was she doing with Geralt? Why did Ciri sound familiar?

“She’s the princess,” said Geralt with a grunt. “The Child Surprise.”

“I thought that information was confidential?” She glared at him.

“We can trust Jaskier,” Geralt’s eyes lit a path all over his body. “He won’t tell a soul.”

Curse his heart! Why did it thrive from his words?

“Well, all right then,” said Ciri. “What is your sister’s curse anyway?”

Jaskier swallowed hard and moved his eyes away from Geralt and his towering form. “I’m not sure what she is, but every full moon she turns into this creature with long red hair and black claws.”

“Oh...does she still look human?” asked Ciri.

“You can tell it’s her,” he replied. “It makes sense now. She’d occasionally disappear at night time and tell me she wanted some time to herself. Little did I know she was turning into a creature nearby.”

Geralt all of a sudden approached him quickly and Jaskier held his breath. “Is it only on a full moon?”

“Y-Yes, at least that’s what I think.”

Geralt glanced at Ciri who gave him a knowing look. Did they know what she was? “Tell me,” he whispered and Geralt returned his gaze to Jaskier’s face. “Please.”

“Just the red hair alone hints that she’s—“

“Ready?” Vesemir and two others cast shadows down the alleyway. 

Jaskier was introduced to Eskel and Lambert. One was soft spoken and polite while the other slapped him too hard on the back and called him a ‘limp fellow’. Jaskier took an immediate dislike to him and was the first to leave the alley. He knew his sister well enough to know that she would be headed back towards her shack. Ciri came to his side with a knowing smile that he didn’t appreciate. 

While with Dandelion he was on equal footing in a way, although she had hidden the curse from him, she still told him secrets that others did not know. But now, while he was surrounded by a group of witchers, he felt like an outsider, and come to think of it, during his travels with Geralt he had always been excluded. If Geralt wasn’t hunting down monsters he was chasing after Yennefer.

“The famous bard?” Lambert flung his arm over his shoulders.

Was he famous?

“Your songs are still being played to this day, but I’ve heard little new material.”

“I don’t play as often,” Jaskier admitted. “Now that I have someone who likes including me in things, I’m rather busy,” he caught Geralt’s eye who stopped walking and looked at him blankly. Vesemir paused beside him and whispered something in his ear. Once again, he was excluded.

“Don’t suppose your sister has a kink for witchers?”

“Gross,” Ciri belched.

“Shut up, princess.”

Ciri quite confidently stuck her middle finger up at him, then Lambert took off after her. They made their way onto the main dirt road that wound a path through the dense woods. Sure enough, Dandelion had only just made it there and was moving at a slow pace in the cart. Jaskier ran over and stilled the horse. 

“What?” she glared at him. “Who the fuck are the entourage?”

“Witchers,” said Jaskier. “And they are here to help you.”

“I said I’m fine!” she snapped. “Jaskier, please just forget about it!”

There she went again, supporting an odd expression on her face. She was being deceitful about something and Jaskier wanted to know the truth. Right now.

“What are you lying about?”

“Nothing!” She hissed through gritted teeth.

Jaskier looked back at the witchers to find them tight-lipped and observing closely. A part of Jaskier wanted to flaunt his happy relationship with his sister in front of Geralt, but right now it was a shit show. Geralt stepped closer and Dandelion pulled out a dagger.

“He needs to stay away from me,” she growled. “Come on Jaskier, let's go home.”

“Tell them about the curse!”

“Jaskier—”

“Can’t you see I want to help you! You always save me and now it’s my chance to return the favour!”

“Jaskier!”

“Just tell them!”

“I’M NOT CURSED!” She screeched.

Jaskier stepped away from the cart with a look of horror on his face. He realised tears were stinging his eyes and he felt pathetic. Where was his humour and witty attitude that usually calmed emotional situations? He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t go through this again. Geralt had lied to him; he’d kept him around so he could mock him and berate him whenever he needed someone to be angry at. And now, his own sister was a liar.

A shadow covered him and he turned to look at Geralt. “Jaskier—”

Jaskier pulled out his dagger and cut the ropes that bound the horse to the cart, then climbed onto the steed and took off. He heard the yelp from Dandelion as she fell from the cart, but he didn’t turn around to see if she was all right.

Fuck her.

Fuck them all.

Although it took days on foot to reach Milkastu Inn, on a fast horse he could get there by nightfall. And so, he pushed the horse to its limits until he arrived at the stable. The young boy who managed it took the ducat that Jaskier gave him in order for him to not tell anyone he was here. He agreed eagerly and admired the shiny gold coin. Jaskier struggled up the many steps and the icy patches caused him to slip occasionally. He half expected Dandelion to pop out of nowhere and laugh at him like she always did when he fell over.

He stormed inside and Balk glared at him. “No funny business.”

Jaskier nodded his head and walked out onto the veranda. He sat down at the usual spot in the top left corner and stared out at the snowy scenery. The inn was quiet now that the miners had been barred, but Balk would lift the ban soon enough when he needed more money. Jaskier just stared blankly at the lanterns that lit up the night and at the snow clouds that rolled over the high peaks.

However, Jaskier couldn’t appreciate its beauty without Dandelion with him to point out its faults. With a sigh, he glanced around the veranda until his eyes landed on a man nearby. He was staring back at him, unfazed to have been caught looking. Jaskier was the one who broke the eye contact with an uneasy feeling settling in his stomach. Then, he saw the man making his way over from the corner of his eye. Jaskier held his breath as he sat down in the seat Dandelion usually occupied.

“Hi,” he grunted. 

“I…I don’t have any money,” Jaskier squeaked. 

“I’m not gonna rob ya!” his laughter was loud. “Just wanted a chat. You look lonely.”

“Oh,” Jaskier felt his cheeks heat up. “Sorry.”

“It’s all right! I’m a scary lookin’ fellow, right?”

Jaskier laughed. The man was a brute, but he could see how he would be able to charm the ladies. “Sorry! I’ve just had a wild day.”

“Good lookin’ chap like you, bet ya get into all sorts of trouble.”

Jaskier’s eyes widened. Good looking? Had he really just called him that? He watched the man closely. He supposed in an unconventional way he was handsome, not like Geralt who was deemed God-like by everyone and everything.

“You're funny.”

“It wasn’t a joke.”

“Oh,” Jaskier found himself drawn to the man. There was something about him that was causing his mind to become a mess. The man reached out and placed his hand on Jaskier’s thigh. And that was when he felt it, arousal. Suddenly, Jaskier couldn’t breathe and the bars that hid away that feeling in his mind gave way.

He jumped to his feet and took off before the man could say anything else. He took the inn steps two at a time even though his leg cried out in protest. Jaskier needed to go for a run, he needed to feel the air rushing against his face. He needed something to make him forget.

However, once Jaskier ran past the stable and into the woods, the energy fled his body and he slumped against a nearby tree. He refused to think about what had just happened. The incident belonged in the cage he’d built for that hideous feeling. He took a few moments to regain control of his breathing, and when he pushed away from the tree, he spotted someone watching him.

Geralt. Alone.

“Your sister said you would be here,” said Geralt.

“And look, you found me, congratulations!”

“Enough, Jaskier. Stop being ridiculous.”

A flame lit up Jaskier’s heart. “I’m ridiculous?” he seethed. “I just want to be left alone! You’re the one that stalked me here!”

Geralt tilted his head. “You're easy to find Jaskier, I would’ve found you without your sister’s help.”

“Oh yes, your witchy senses.”

“Witcher senses,” Geralt corrected.

“Witchy, witcher, same thing.”

“Look, Jaskier,” Geralt took a step closer but Jaskier moved away. “I’ve apologised.”

“Yes, you have, and I don’t forgive you.”

“Why?” Geralt kept the look on his face blank, and it worsened Jaskier’s anger. He wasn’t sure how he expected Geralt to make things up to him, because honestly, he hadn’t expected him to apologise in the first place. Perhaps he was changing?

“Because, Geralt, I know my worth. I annoyed you, right? Every time we travelled about, I kept pushing and you hated it, hated me.”

Geralt’s face fell. “I could never hate you, Jaskier,” the deep grumble when he said his name extinguished the angry flame fuelling his heart and lit a new one in his stomach. 

He started to move closer and Jaskier didn’t move away this time, but he refused to look at him. 

“Yennefer has forgiven me.”

Jaskier scoffed. “Well, I’m not sure you can manipulate me to forgive you with sex like you did her.”

Hands grabbed the front of his doublet and Jaskier’s head jerked back to stare up into his burning eyes. He only spoke the truth though. Yennefer was a strong woman but there was something about having sex with Geralt that made her easy to conform. 

Jaskier could feel his warm breath against his face; it caused his stomach to do little flips and that feeling started to throw itself against its cage. Geralt was similar to the man back at the inn. Both of them were rugged and gruff, but unlike the mysterious man, Geralt didn’t want him. 

And that hurt. 

And that made Jaskier realise something terrifying. He was attracted to men. It caused him to reevaluate every male person he’d encountered in his life. Has it always been there? Yes, quite probably. But why now? Well, it was quite obvious the more he thought about it.

Jaskier was attracted to Geralt. 

“Forgive me, Jaskier—“

For some reason, Jaskier felt the heat from the explosion before the echoing bang. The magical force pushed him against Geralt’s hard front, and his strong arms wrapped around him in order to push Jaskier behind him. It took a few moments for Jaskier to gather his senses, and when he eventually did, he looked around Geralt’s protective stance to find the inn on fire and cloaked figures making their way inside to butcher the people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Jaskier will forgive him eventually! But not yet! In the next chapter, Geralt will finally tell Jaskier what Dandelion is! Let me know your thoughts and feelings :)


	6. Into The Woods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier finds himself running into the night with a certain Witcher.
> 
> [Song: Bastille - Of The Night](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vXptzKluBLc)

**Chapter Six: Into The Woods**

_Northern Kingdoms, Kaedwen, Blue Mountains._

Jaskier has seen death before, but the emotional effect had been lessened because it had always been the bad guys getting killed. However, the screams that cut through the forest felt like a punch to the gut. He hadn’t been trained to handle this well, not like Geralt or Dandelion. His first instinct was to hide behind Geralt so he could keep him safe, but he shook the thought from his mind and stepped around him. He didn’t need Geralt; he could handle himself perfectly well. If only his body would stop shaking.

The inn lit up the night with an orange hue that signalled pain and torture. He pulled out his dagger and ignored his trembling hands. He could do this. But would he make things worse? Probably. If he went up there, whoever had caused the destruction would kill him. Balk was more than likely dead.

_Oh, what a horrible thought._ His safe haven was gone, along with all the people that made the place what it was. Home. And the man that had approached him was dead, he was sure of it, because the veranda had been blown to pieces.

Jaskier took off running, and once he reached the treeline, hands grabbed his arm. “What are you doing?” Geralt’s voice boomed. “Are you insane?”

“I’m insane?” Jaskier yelled. “Look who’s talking! I need to help them!”

Geralt snatched the dagger from his hand. “With this? C’mon, Jaskier, don’t be stupid.”

“So not only am I insane, I’m also stupid? Thanks a lot!”

Geralt growled. “I didn’t mean it like that!”

“There’s only one definition for both of those words, so I know exactly what you mean!”

Geralt threw the dagger off to the side. Jaskier moved to get it but Geralt grabbed him again. “Stop touching me!”

“Listen to me!” He shook him. “You need to head back, there’s nothing you can do.”

“You don’t get it—”

“Then explain!”

Jaskier couldn’t. He wouldn’t explain to Geralt why that place meant so much to him, because it would reveal too much to him. He adored the inn so much because it was where he could go with Dandelion and forget all about his travels with Geralt. It was the only place he had found peace. And now it was gone. Jaskier pulled away from him and turned to look at the fire. He squinted at the sight of black robed people. Their hoods were up to conceal their identity, but their quick hands gave away their intention of destruction. Why were they doing this? Had Balk pissed off the wrong sort of people?

He turned back to look at Geralt with wet eyes. “I…I have to help them.”

Geralt stared at him blankly for a few moments, then pulled out his sword. “Stay here.”

“Wait!”

He was going to go up there alone? Worry consumed him immediately, and he wondered for a second if that was what Geralt had felt moments ago when Jaskier had tried to run up there. No, he was incapable of feeling such an emotion. And why would he care about him in the first place?

“Holy-fuckin’-shit!” Dandelion came running over with her eyes wide. “What happened?”

Dandelion was standing too out in the open, so Jaskier pulled her back into the covered area. “They just turned up and burnt the place down.”

“Shit, we have to save them! Are you comin’?”

And there it was, the difference between Geralt and Dandelion. Although his sister didn’t think him to be strong, she still believed him capable of defending himself and others. Whereas Geralt had tried to stop him because he deemed him incapable of defending himself.

Dandelion took off up the steps and Jaskier glanced back at the passive look on Geralt’s face, then took off after his sister. They didn’t make it far. Dandelion suddenly hissed and came to a stop, she turned to him with wide eyes and he quickly scanned her body to find she hadn’t been hit.

“What’s wrong?”

Her terrified eyes moved upwards towards the night sky. He followed her eyeline and watched in horror as the black clouds cleared to reveal the full moon. That wasn’t possible. There wasn’t supposed to be another full moon for a few more days. Laughter came from the inn and the fighting and screams got louder.

“Jaskier,” she whimpered. “Go.”

“W-What, no, let me help you,” she took a few steps towards him then fell to her knees. He joined her on the cold ground and cupped her cheeks. “Tell me what I can do to help.”

“Go!” she snapped. “Jaskier, please if anything happened to you, I couldn’t live…Jaskier, just go!”

“We need to go,” came Geralt’s deep voice from behind him.

“We have to help them!” Ciri shouted, and Jaskier glanced over his shoulder to see the other’s standing at the bottom of the stairs.

“No, we don’t!” Geralt was furious. “Everyone back into the woods!”

“I can’t leave her,” hissed Jaskier.

“Take him,” whispered Dandelion. “Go to the shack and lock the door.”

“No!” Jaskier couldn’t do that. Not now. What if the mages spotted her and decided to kill her?

A strong arm engulfed his waist and he was lifted from the snowy ground. “Put me down!” It didn’t matter how comforting his warmth was, he didn’t want Geralt anywhere near him. “Let me go you sack of shit!”

“Jaskier! Stop fighting, we need to—”

An ear-piercing screech came from his sister, which caused Jaskier to cover his ears with his hands and Geralt to fall over with him landing in his lap. A flash of blonde charged past them, and Jaskier realised it was Ciri heading towards the inn.

“We’ll get her!” Vesemir shouted over the noise and the other witchers took off after her. Geralt finally sat up panting for air, and Jaskier was awkwardly cradled in his lap. “Get off me,” said Jaskier with a huff and a glare at Geralt.

“Jaskier,” the look of surprise on his face caused him to turn in Geralt’s lap and stare at Dandelion’s new form.

“Holy shit…”

Another screech ripped through the night and Jaskier was thrown from Geralt’s lap, then pushed down the steps as Geralt readied his sword. Dandelion was now naked, her clothes were ripped and hanging from her body in pieces. Her hair was red and her nails sharp and black. Her skin was as white as snow, and her eyes, well their yellow colour glowed in the darkness.

Jaskier didn’t like this. Not one bit. What if Geralt killed her?

“Geralt, please don’t hurt her!”

He turned to look at Jaskier. “I…Jaskier…”

“Please--”

His final plea was cut off as Dandelion lunged at Geralt. Jaskier raced down the steps and watched as Geralt dipped and rolled away from his sister’s swipes. His heart hit the ground as he watched the fight unfold. The fire that consumed the inn was little in comparison to the blaze that had lit up his heart and mind. If she died, he wasn’t sure he could carry on.

Geralt flung out his hand and Dandelion was thrown backwards into the snow. Geralt paused with his sword by his side, and he waited for her to get back up but she didn’t. Not for a few moments. Then, she shot from the snow and landed with another ear destroying screech. Geralt suddenly ran towards Jaskier and grabbed his wrist.

“What are you doing?” Geralt took off into the woods at a brutal pace and Jaskier struggled to keep up. He glanced over his shoulder quickly and spotted Dandelion charging after them. She intended to kill them. And now, Geralt was leading them into an area where they would receive no extra help.

This was the stuff of nightmares, but now, when the beast caught up to him, he would actually die. Gods he was scared — terrified of his own sister. And he wasn’t even sure Geralt could protect him. Sure, he’d faced worse monsters and come out unscathed, but Jaskier had made the specific request for her not to be killed, which meant that they would have to evade her until sunrise. Jaskier risked another look back only to find Dandelion was no longer there. He pulled away from Geralt and glanced around frantically.

“Where is she?”

“Her kind like to attack from above —”

“Then why are we in a goddamn forest!” 

Geralt put his hand over Jaskier’s mouth and dragged him down a slope where there was an alcove to hide them. They fell to the frosty mud with Geralt’s hand still firmly pressed against Jaskier’s lips. He felt on edge, and it wasn’t because of Dandelion. He hated being this close to Geralt because of the way it made him feel. 

Jaskier did the only plausible thing, he licked Geralt’s palm and he pulled away with a look of disgust on his face. “I’ve told you to stop touching me.”

“Shut up,” he growled. “She’s got excellent hearing.”

Jaskier’s chest heaved for air as he moved to sit down beside Geralt. He listened to the noises of the night and wondered where his sister was now. Jaskier turned his head to the side and stared at Geralt. He was thinking hard about something.

“What is she?” he whispered.

“An Alp.”

“A what?”

“Some people would call her a Phantom, others a Vampire,” he explained. “Vampires have many sub-breeds.”

“Oh, fuck…she never told me...why wouldn’t she tell me?”

“Probably didn’t want you to worry, Jaskier.”

“Perhaps.”

He gasped for air and tried to focus his attention on the woodland ground, but his mind kept fluttering between worry and panic. How did Geralt cope with this type of situation all the time? If he had to go through anymore of this it would send him grey quickly — well that answered that, Geralt already had white hair. Jaskier smirked, but soon realised he was happy because of Geralt, so he frowned. 

Jaskier’s eyes wandered down to the medallion around his neck. “I thought your medallion could detect monsters.”

“It can,” he said with a huff. “Vampires are notorious for being the exception. Those who are elite in their breed or extremely powerful can avoid detection. Alps are known for being the best at disguising themselves.”

“Is there...can she get help?”

Geralt tilted his head and locked eyes with him. “There’s no cure unless it’s a curse. Sorry, Jaskier.”

He shrugged. “I guess that’s life then,” Jaskier bit his lip unaware of the way Geralt’s eyes fluttered to them for a brief second. “Gods, she’s been through enough. I thought my life was a pile of shit, then along came my big sister to kick me up the arse.”

“Was your life truly so bad? Didn’t you...did you not enjoy…”

“What? Me tagging along while you had all the fun.”

Geralt’s eyes narrowed. “That’s how you saw it?”

“That’s how it was, Geralt. If I wasn’t getting hurt or in trouble, I was being useless and annoying.”

“Stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Saying shit like that about yourself.”

Jaskier rubbed some dirt from his palm and stared blankly at his knees. “I’m not a hero, Geralt. Nor am I strong. Everyone around me seems to have come from a rough upbringing in order to be appreciated. Yes, I was raised in an orphanage, but my life was mediocre at best without trauma to raise me. Heroes are made by evil, and I’ll never be one.” 

Geralt’s hand thumped against his shoulder. A chill shot down his spine, and Jaskier let out a staggered breath. “Do you truly want to be a hero?”

“No…not really,” Jaskier moved away from him so his hand thudded against the ground. “I just want to be appreciated rather than being the butt of everyone’s jokes or the favourite person for people to take their anger out on. The only thing I have left is Dandelion. I enjoy singing, but I can’t venture far from here because it’s where she feels safe. Everyone else seems to have something that defines who they are. You’re the Witcher, Yennefer a mage and Dandelion, well, she can fight and protect the things she cares about. I, however, can’t even take a walk without hurting myself,” Jaskier pulled up his trouser leg to show him the cut. “I cried when Dandelion stitched me up; I’m not a man, I’m a coward.”

“Jaskier,” he tried to touch him again.

“Don’t.”

Geralt hummed in response then carefully rummaged through the small pouch he had attached to his belt. 

“What are you doing?” whispered Jaskier.

“Looking for...this,” he pulled out two small phials of a black potion.

“And what exactly is that?”

“Something that will make our blood poisonous,” he handed one to Jaskier who ignored the way his skin tingled when their fingers touched. 

“W-Why would we want to do that?”

“If she bites us it will—“

“Kill her!” He yelled and Geralt slapped his hand over his mouth and forced him against the mud wall behind them. Geralt’s piercing eyes were alight with anger as he tilted his head slightly to listen to the noises of the night. 

“It will disable her, perhaps knock her out,” he explained. “I have the antidote for it which we can use when she turns back. Now, can I remove my hand without you screaming?” Jaskier nodded his head and Geralt moved away from him.

“What if it kills her?”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“No,” said Jaskier confidently, and Geralt glanced at him over his shoulder with an unreadable expression on his face. Jaskier hadn’t meant to answer so quickly, but why should he care if he hurt his feelings in the first place? Not once had Geralt cared about the way his words had hurt him, not once. Even when he’d frantically looked for a mage to save him after the Djinn, it had ended up with Jaskier being shouted at and Geralt finding the love of his life. None of it had benefited him.

Geralt sighed. “Just swallow the potion as a precaution.”

Jaskier did so with reluctance. He swallowed hard with a pained look on his face, and he hoped that his sister wouldn’t track them down. 

“We need to move again.”

“We’re safe here—“ the snapping of twigs cut him off which was followed by a low gurgle. “Fine,” he whispered, and before he could get up unaided, Geralt grabbed his wrist and pulled him up. 

They awkwardly moved down the slope trying to avoid making too much noise. The hairs on Jaskier’s neck stood on end as he tried to focus on not falling over. His mind screamed at him to turn around and scan the darkness, but he was too scared of finding his sister charging towards them. 

His skin hurt where Geralt gripped him, and for a few moments, Jaskier stared at his fingers. The only time he’d really touched him was after he’d been attacked by the Djinn, and it hadn’t felt like this. Sometimes he wished he could get inside Geralt’s head. Was such a touch nothing to him? Did he feel the heat? 

Jaskier shook his head and focused on speed walking at a quiet pace. He soon recognised his surroundings, and Geralt was unknowingly leading them towards the shack. Jaskier pulled on his wrist and nodded to his left. “There’s shelter this way.”

Geralt nodded and led them through the tightly packed trees. Soon enough, they came to the clearing where the shack was. Jaskier managed a smile and he pulled away from Geralt’s hold. He took a few steps closer to the door, then suddenly, something flew down from the treetops and landed on the roof with an echoing thud.

Dandelion.

She threw her head back and released a disarming shriek before leaping down. Geralt grabbed hold of him and pushed him towards a tree out of the way. “Stop doing that!”

He wasn’t a princess that needed saving all the time!

Jaskier watched as Geralt stood with his sword extended to his right, ready to enter into a fight with her. “Don’t hurt her!”

Geralt didn’t acknowledge him, and when Dandelion lunged at him, he twisted out of the way and followed her with his sword as she began to circle.

“Go!” shouted Geralt. “Head back to the others.”

“Did you hit your head? I’m not leaving you to kill my sister!”

“Jaskier, I promise I’ll try my hardest not to! Now, go!”

Dandelion lunged at him again and Geralt sliced her arm with his sword just as she slashed his back with her claws. They returned to circling one another. Jaskier took in a staggered breath then walked backwards. He couldn’t keep his eyes off his sister. What if he never saw her again? Was this going to be his last memory of her?

No, it wasn’t. 

She stopped circling and before Geralt could stop her, she bolted right towards him. Jaskier let out a yelp then took off running. He’d done enough of it already and could feel his injured leg giving up. “Geralt!” He screamed. “Now would be the time to use your witchy senses!” Jaskier started running in and out of the trees rather than taking a straight path; it did well to slow her down, but it also caused him to become exhausted. He stumbled to a stop near the embankment where he’d taken his tumble. 

“F-Fuck…” He panted and rested his hands on his knees. The sound of fast approaching footsteps caused him to whirl around and he screamed once more as his sister lept towards him.

Thankfully, Geralt tackled him; however, it sent them both rolling down the embankment. Jaskier felt the moment his stitches tore completely, and he cried out in pain as they came to a stop at the bottom. Geralt’s heavy form crushed him into the snow and added to the burning hot pain coming from his calf.

“Son of—my leg, get off!”

Just as Geralt moved to get off him, they both turned to look at the top of the embankment. Dandelion shrieked again with eyes and claws ready to kill. Through the tops of the trees, Jaskier saw something that made his heart leap. The moon was changing. It’s roundness became consumed with black then the morphing stopped as it formed the crescent shape it should’ve been originally on this cold night. However, Jaskier’s heart dropped as Dandelion jumped from the top with the intention of landing with a killing blow to them both.

Then, mid air, her body shimmered and she hit the middle of the embankment and rolled down towards them. She landed in a heap of rosy limbs and purple hair. She was back to normal. 

“Fuck—Dandelion!” Jaskier pushed Geralt off him and reached out to touch her face. “Wake up!”

Geralt started to take off his thick armour. “Now is not the time to strip!”

“She’s naked in the middle of winter, Jaskier.”

Oh. Yes, she was. 

Dandelion came around and sat up rubbing her tired eyes. “My fuckin’ head,” she groaned unaware of her exposed state. 

“Thank the Gods!” Jaskier pulled her against his chest and kissed her head. 

“Don’t be so soppy,” she mumbled into his chest. “Why is it so cold?”

She pulled away and stared down at herself. Jaskier spotted the moment the memories caught up to her. Sadness grew on her usually fierce face. “I’m so sorry.”

“Take this,” Geralt had removed his undershirt that would be long enough on her to cover her most intimate parts. She looked reluctant to take it, but she eventually did and slipped it over her head. 

“What the fuck happened?”

“Mages,” said Geralt. “Probably needed a full moon to perform certain magic.”

There was a sincere look on Geralt’s face as he stared at Dandelion. “You fight well,” she said with a small smirk. “Although, I can still beat you.”

Geralt laughed as if it was a joke, but when he realised she was being serious, he looked over at Jaskier.

“She’s not lying,” replied Jaskier. “She’s taken someone down twice the size of you before.”

“I’m an excellent fighter—shit, Jaskier, your leg!”

Both of them glanced down at the blood that was tainting his trouser leg. Geralt pulled it up roughly but Dandelion hit his hands away. “Don’t touch him,” she grumbled. “I’ll need to redo the stitches, again. It’ll definitely scar now.”

Jaskier nodded in agreement. “Shouldn’t we head back and check on the others?”

“Ciri!” Geralt exclaimed and hurried to his feet. 

“Hold your fuckin’ horses mister. I’m weak after transforming, normally I could carry our little friend here, but not tonight,” she patted his head like he was a child, then before he could protest, Geralt scooped him up into his warmth. 

Oh fuck. If he wasn’t certain of his attraction to Geralt then he was now.

They walked slowly through the forest, and against all of Geralt’s instincts, he made sure to go at Dandelion’s pace. Jaskier could tell he wanted to run to find Ciri, and it warmed Jaskier’s heart to see him care about someone so much in a non romantic sense. 

What a weird thing to get excited about? There was definitely something wrong with him. Jaskier would be done with him after this. They could go their separate ways, and he would build a hut to lock Dandelion in on each full moon. Then, he could forget about this revelation about himself. He could die beside his sister of old age and Witcher free.

However, such a thing was unlikely, especially when Eskel came running towards them with a look of horror on his face.

“What is it?” Geralt’s voice was cold.

Eskel gasped for air. “They’ve...Gods...shit, Geralt, they’ve taken Ciri.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I'm back now and I have most of the story mapped out, so I know how it'll end! Jaskier needs to learn to love himself! Next chapter will find Ciri face-to-face with an unlikely ally, Cahir.
> 
> [An Alp](https://witcher.fandom.com/wiki/Alp)  
> [Black Blood Potion](https://witcher.fandom.com/wiki/Black_Blood)


	7. The Black Knight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cahir does something unexpected...
> 
> [Song: Sam Tinnesz - Far From Home](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8y4Sz8_Oq1M)

** Chapter Seven: The Black Knight **

  
  
  


_ Woodlands, North of the Continent _

Geralt had taught her to bide her time. There was no use in thrashing and screeching while being dragged by two men twice her size. She wasn’t a God who could easily disarm them, no matter how hard she had been trained. They walked her down to a dungeon after removing a white sack from her head; she should have been afraid, but she wasn’t. Lambert had once told her that fear gets a person killed, and if she listened to her instincts right now, she’d be trying to run off and would undoubtedly be killed.

One of the men kicked open a door and she was dragged out into a small hall of cells. The metal cages were all attached to one another so the prisoners could see each other. However, she could only spot one other prisoner, but their back was to her and he didn’t move when she was tossed into the cell next to him.

Ciri landed hard with a groan then turned to watch them lock the door behind her. They laughed between themselves then left the cold dungeon. 

Well what was she supposed to do now? Her training hadn’t reached this point. She’d always thought Geralt would be around to protect her, but he’d been too busy fighting off the monster Dandelion had turned into. She hoped they were all okay. It was her own impulsiveness that had landed her here, but she doesn’t regret trying to help those people.

What did those mages want anyway? How had they recognised her? Did they have some affiliation with Nilfgaard? Gods, she couldn’t wait for Geralt to come and rescue her, because he would eventually. He’d promised to protect her no matter what, and although she knew she couldn’t depend on him all the time, her heart swelled with love as she knew he wouldn’t be far behind her.

“Well, fuck…”

Ciri gasped at the new voice. She recognised the deep coarseness of it. Fear rushed through her body as she turned ever so slowly and looked at the other prisoner. Her eyes widened in horror as she looked into the eyes of the man that had been hunting her for so long.

Cahir. 

The Black Knight that led the Imperial Army.

Ciri scrambled away from him until her back hit the bars. Lambert’s rant about fear did nothing to stop it from causing her panic. This man scared her. Terrified her. He had destroyed Cintra and killed the people she loved. 

Gods she hated him. And now she could fight which meant she could kill him.

“What are you doing here?!” She exclaimed, rubbing her arms. It was freezing and she needed some extra layers. 

A sly smirk grew on his face. “I’m taking some time off,” he flicked some dust from his shoulder. “Decided to take a relaxing getaway.”

How could he maintain humour in a situation like this? And since when did he have a funny bone?

“Why are you here? This is a trap, isn’t it?”

“Now why would I tell you if it was, princess.”

His words sent a chill down her spine. There was something about him that put her on edge. Perhaps it was how he could smile with no happiness on his face and keep his eyes void of emotion. This was a man who had been in plenty of battles and came out unscathed. His tall and slender stature didn’t hinder him, and that’s what terrified her. Geralt was scary to look at sometimes but that was because he was large. Cahir however looked like an average man who would usually fall victim to brutality.

She was going to kill him; she’d been trained to protect herself, and he was a danger to her and everyone else.

Ciri refused to look at him any longer and focused on the dusty floor. 

“Where have you been?” He asked in a tone that seemed like he didn’t care what her answer was.

“Now why would I tell you that, Cahir?”

He chuckled deeply. “Not Black Night? I’m surprised you know my name.”

“I was educated on you recently. I’m told I must know my enemies well.”

“And do you usually socialise with your enemies?”

Ciri crossed her arms with a frustrated sigh. 

“So you are being educated somewhere?”

Shit. Why was she so bad at being discreet? Coën was the only one that had thought to teach her about the way she spoke to others. None of it had sunk in clearly. She bit her lip in frustration as he moved closer to the bars.

“You can stop looking at me like that…” he started to bite on the side of his thumb. “These people don’t like me. We’re in this together.”

She laughed. “You’ve chased me all over the continent, why would I want a truce?”

He smirked. “Do you really think you’ll get out without my help?”

“Yes,” she said. “Geralt is coming to get me—“ she clamped her mouth shut. Damn it! She’d done it again!

“Aha, Geralt of Rivia, The Witcher.”

Ciri put her back to him ignoring his laughter. What an infuriating man? She needed to stop talking to him in case he escaped back to Nilfgaard and told them everything. However, surely the Imperial Army would have already come to save him. She turned back around and regarded him closely. 

“Why?” 

He stared at her blankly. “Why what?”

“Why are you here? I thought Nilfgaard would’ve come to retrieve you.”

An annoyed look passed over his face, then he sighed. “Mind your own business.”

Ciri scoffed. “Did they get the best of you? The mages I mean. Was it a knock to your masculinity?”

His smirk made her shrink back. 

She turned away from him again and focused on her surroundings. Now would be the perfect time to gain control of her magic — or whatever it was called. She’d killed people before with it, and she couldn’t help but think about how easy it would be to do so again if she could control it. She’d be out of here in no time.

“I was left for dead by my army,” he whispered and she held her breath. “Nilfgaard values Fringilla more than me. We were attacked by some beasts and I got hurt. She took my men and left.”

“I don’t think they were your men if they left you willingly.”

He pinned her with a look. “Ever the one to state the obvious.”

“How did you end up here?”

Cahir sighed and moved to sit with his legs crossed. “I was weak from my injuries from the fight. These mages came across me and knocked me out, then I awoke here. They know who I am, so I’m guessing they are going to ask for gold in exchange for me. Don’t think they’ve had much luck, I’ve been down here for two weeks now.”

“So Nilfgaard has abandoned you?”

He flinched. “Seems that way, princess.”

Ciri didn’t feel sorry for him. He deserved to experience pain. He’d taken away the people she loved. However, Ciri was still a child, a compassionate one. She crawled across her cell so she was opposite him through the bars. He kept his eyes on her and she swallowed hard as she mimicked his sitting position.

“You murdered my people. Killed my family.”

“I did.”

“Do you regret it?”

“No.”

His admission should’ve shocked her to her core, but if anything, she felt relief. She wasn’t sure she could handle him feeling guilty about murdering the people of Cintra. She would feel obliged to show remorse. 

“Why did you do it?”

He tilted his head slightly. “I do what I’m told. Orders are orders.”

“Can you even feel emotions?”

He chuckled deeply. “I don’t know. I haven’t tried.”

“So, being emotionless makes killing easier?”

“Don’t know,” he said. “Does The Witcher have feelings?”

“Of course.”

“He kills for a living.”

That was true. Ciri wasn’t sure what she was trying to get Cahir to admit. Perhaps a small part of her was searching for a reason to justify his actions. However, Ciri knew that some people were just cruel for the sake of being cruel. There didn’t always need to be an answer to justify their actions.

“Well then, I guess you are just heartless.”

“So it would seem, princess.”

“I’m not a princess anymore,” she rubbed her cheek.

“I’m not calling you by your name.”

“And here I thought we were becoming friends,” she muttered sarcastically.

“Sorry to disappoint.”

She hummed in response just as the dungeon door creaked open. Ciri shrunk back at the sight of a beautiful woman with red hair. She flashed Ciri a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes then stopped in front of her cell.

“Princess.”

Shit. Why did everyone have to call her that? She’d long accepted that she couldn’t go back to her life of royalty, but the title would haunt her to her grave. Ciri looked to Cahir to find his eyes were calculating the woman, and what he’d concluded he didn’t like.

“I’m Relain.”

Ciri didn’t respond. She’d never heard of the name before, and on the odd occasion Yennefer visited her, she had been taught about powerful mages. Relain didn’t ring a bell.

“Well, I can see my name has travelled far,” she remarked sarcastically. “Are you wondering why you are here?”

Ciri locked eyes with Cahir. Funnily enough, he was her safety blanket here, because at least she knew him. She pressed herself against the bars near to where he was resting. Should she engage her in conversation? Cahir had already managed to get a lot out of her within moments, so it was probably best to keep quiet.

“I can see the wait is killing you,” she puckered her rosy lips. “Word has spread of your unique gifts. I believe you are a Source, like your mother.”

“And?” said Ciri.

“And, your blood is unique.”

Cahir scoffed. “You need it for a ritual.” 

Ciri gasped and brought her knees to her chest. She hoped Geralt would hurry up and rescue her. 

“Precisely,” Relain tilted her head. “Then you’ll be coming with us back to Nilfgaard.”

“You work for Nilfgaard?” Ciri asked.

“Yes, since last night,” she chuckled and moved her eyes to Cahir. “We tried to get gold from them for you, but they’ve completely shunned you, Cahir. We got talking then, and it turns out we both want the same thing.”

“What’s that?” Cahir said. 

“Chaos.”

Relain returned her attention to Ciri. “Once I have your blood you’ll be going to Nilfgaard. But not until your friends arrive.”

“Excuse me?” Panic washed over Ciri. How could she possibly know that?

“I saw who you were with: The Witcher. He’ll be coming to save you, and I hope he does.”

“Why so you can kill him? You think you can do that?” Ciri knew that Relain was saying these things on purpose hoping to get a reaction, and it was working. Geralt meant the world to her.

“Oh, no no no,” Relain wrapped her fingers around the bars of Ciri’s cell. “I want the Alp.”

“The w-what?” She had no idea what the mage was prattling on about.

“Your friend, the one who started to turn during the full moon,” Relain started laughing. “Nilfgaard has taken an interest in her. The purple flower has been pissing off the wrong people, and it makes it worse that she’s a woman. She gutted a famous Lord who was adored by Nilfgaard. They wanted her hanging from the gallows. However, I’ve sent them a letter explaining what type of monster she is, and believe me, they’ll want her in their army.”

Ciri hadn’t had time to get to know Dandelion. The woman scared her, but Ciri could tell she was passionate about things. She’d protected the Blue Bears for so long, so that had to mean she had a good heart. And now Nilfgaard wanted her. Why did Ciri have the feeling the mages would have a harder time kidnapping Dandelion than they had snatching her. 

“Good luck with that,” Ciri muttered.

“Thank-you,” Relain pushed herself away from the cell. “Mages are superior to Alps. I can knock her out with a simple spell.”

Ciri smiled at her. “Like I said, good luck with that.”

Relain huffed in response then turned to Cahir. “I need a human sacrifice, so since no one wants you you’ll do, Black Knight.”

He didn’t acknowledge what she’d said, instead he stared at something down the hallway. 

“Hey!” Relain shouted. “I’m talking to you.”

Cahir turned to her. “Can I help you?”

She growled in frustration then stormed out of the dungeon. When the door slammed shut, Cahir moved suddenly to the other side of the cell to get a better look at something.

“What is it?” Ciri got to her knees and pressed herself against the bars. 

“I’ve seen you use your magic before,” he glanced over his shoulder at her. “There’s two thin rods down the end of the hall. Bring them here.”

“I-I can’t control it,” she finally realised how useless she was. 

“Then try!” 

“What will you do with them?”

“Pick the lock. She hasn't sealed us in with magic.”

“I don’t trust you.”

He charged over and grabbed her through the bars. “Listen to me! I can get us out of here if you do this.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. Was he scared? “How do I know you won’t pick your lock then leave me here?”

He matched her glare. “Do you have a better plan?”

“Yes, wait until Geralt gets here.”

“You see, princess, that doesn’t bode well for me.”

He had a point. And Ciri wasn’t sure whether she wanted Dandelion to come near this place in case the mages got her.

“I-I don’t know how to use them,” she explained. “It happens randomly.”

“Well, focus,” he released her and she moved to the front corner of the cell so she could see the thin metal rods. 

Ciri tried to focus. Nothing came of it just as she expected, but she tried her hardest nonetheless. She stared menacingly at the objects, and felt her vein pulse in her forehead. She gripped the bars tightly and let out a frustrated yelp.

“It’s not working.”

“Try harder.”

“I’m trying my damned hardest!”

A small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Too much for the little princess to handle?”

“Shut up.”

“Should’ve known better than to trust someone like you to do a simple task.”

“It’s not a simple task!” She shouted. “And what do you mean someone like me? I’m not royalty anymore or have you forgotten that you butchered my family?!”

“Spoilt. Pretentious. Arrogant. Selfish.”

Ciri was furious. She wanted to wrap her tiny hands around his neck and squeeze until he turned purple. How dare he insult her like that? She was trying to help him escape, and now she wasn’t sure why she’d even bothered.

“You’re the arrogant one—“

“You must get it from your Grandmother. Tell me, instead of fighting to protect your city would you result to something as cowardly as suicide. She jumped out of a window, like a gutless, selfish coward.”

Ciri’s whole body lit up in fury so much so that the hair on her head started to move as if underwater. She scurried over to the bars where he lurked and reached through them to grab him. He moved away quickly with a smirk, and she hissed through her teeth at him.

“I’ll kill you!” She shrieked. “I can’t believe I trusted you,” her hands slammed against the cold floor. “You took away my family—“ her hand landed on something cold.

She glanced down with confused eyes that widened at the sight of two small rods. “You…” she locked eyes with him. “You did that on purpose!”

He extended his hand. “Give them to me.”

“W-What—no! Why would you do something like?”

He tilted his head with a blank expression on his face. “Hand them over, princess.”

Ciri did so with reluctance. She watched him move over to the lock and start to work his magic. Perhaps she should get Geralt to teach her how to pick a lock. It was a useful skill to have, and she wondered if Geralt knew any other seedy tricks that would benefit her in situations like this.

There would definitely be a next time. If she’d learnt anything from her travels, it was that she seemed to attract trouble. She wasn’t defenseless and meek by any means, but she was still just a child.

Cahir was quick. He’d clearly done something like this before. She took him for a fierce butcherer not a petty criminal who had mastered the lockpicking trade. She held her breath as he stepped out into the hall. Would he run? Would he leave her behind?

Probably.

But he surprised her. Without another look her way, he crouched down before her lock and started to work his quick hands. Perhaps she didn’t always need to depend on Geralt to save her. Here she was escaping without his help; albeit, she was being aided by someone else, but she was escaping without a warrior to swoop in to save the day. Cahir pushed open the barred door and got to his feet.

“Are you coming?” He asked deeply, and Ciri got to her feet and brushed the dirt from her trousers.

“What do we do now?” She slowly walked over to him. Now they were close, her hands reached to cause him bodily harm, but she knew that she needed to contain those urges until they escaped.

“Those drunken guards are too loud at night. I heard them talking about a hatch that leads to the surface. It’s down here somewhere, we’ve just got to find it.”

“What if we get caught?”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Then we get caught.”

And Ciri hated that she was worried for him. She would be safe if they got caught because the mages needed her, but they didn’t need Cahir. Would they kill him without hesitation?

“We haven’t got a lot of time, princess,” he walked over to the dungeon door. “Let’s go.”

Thankfully, as they stepped out into the damp corridor, no one was around. She found herself sticking close to his back as he stuck to the shadows. He made no noise as he moved whereas she sounded like hooves against cobblestone. He kept looking back at her with a glare which she returned with a smug smile. She hadn’t mastered stealth yet, but she would eventually. 

It took them a while but they eventually found it. Light trickled down from the open hatch, and as Ciri looked up into the night, the cold breeze reddened her cheeks. She turned to Cahir with a genuine smile.

However, a loud boom came from somewhere, then a loud screech caused Ciri to cover her ears. Soon enough the shouts of their escape were being followed by orders to hunt them down. Ciri could hear the stampede of steps as they got closer. She stared at Cahir with wide eyes.

“We have to go!” She put one foot on the ladder and nodded up at the open hatch. “Why are you just standing there?”

“Go.”

She brought her foot off the ladder. “N-No!”

His face still showed no emotion. “Just go.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“I can delay them for a bit while you get a head start. They’ll definitely catch us if we both go,” he turned away from her and she swallowed hard.

“Cahir—“

“Go. Now.”

Ciri’s heart raced. “Thank-you.” She took off up the ladder and fled into the night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! Next chapter Dandelion tells Geralt something that he can't seem to shake...


	8. Broke My Brother's Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geralt's brooding...
> 
> [Song: Lewis Capaldi - Mercy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jAz7thCEfg4)

**Chapter Eight: Broke My Brother's Heart.**

  
_Kaedwen, Woodlands._

Geralt’s body swayed side to side on top of Roach. It was snowing heavily and the flakes settled in his hair. He was wet and cold, but none of that mattered. They still hadn’t found Ciri; it had been two long days and nights of scouting Kaedwen for any sign of her or the mages. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. He’d once told her that those who share the same destiny would always find one another, and a part of him hoped he was being pulled towards her right now. 

The search party had mostly been quiet, apart from the occasional time Dandelion shouted at Lambert for saying something offensive. He was surprised that Jaskier and his sister had decided to come with them, more so about Dandelion. She had an attitude that was unbecoming of a woman, but she seemed to have a positive effect on Jaskier.

Geralt’s eyes wandered over to the bard. He was at the front of the party talking to Eskel. Whatever they were talking about was funny enough to make Jaskier smile — constantly. Since when was Eskel so funny? And why did that make him angry? 

He hadn’t spoken much to Jaskier since that night in the woods. Too many truths had been revealed. Jaskier hates him, that much is obvious. They were no longer friends, only acquaintances. He didn’t trust him with anything, and that offended Geralt even more. All he’s ever done is keep him safe, and what does he get in return: nothing. 

Geralt averted his gaze from Jaskier but it soon returned when he started laughing loudly. What was so damn funny? Eskel didn’t have a sense of humour. Or at least he’d never said anything that he’d found funny. Geralt urged Roach forward just as they entered the shelter of a small woods. 

Jaskier’s laughter died down and he turned his horse away to go to his sister. Geralt watched him go with narrowed eyes.

“Has he not forgiven you yet?” 

Geralt grunted in response. He still wasn’t ready to talk to Eskel yet. Had he not given Ciri the potion they wouldn’t be here in the first place and she would be safe. He didn’t want to think about what those mages might be doing to her right now. His heart ached, and he decided that he didn’t like feeling this way. He never got attached to people for the reasons of it affecting his heart and judgement. He hasn’t done a good job so far. He’s got Ciri to care for, Yennefer to worry about and Jaskier’s forgiveness to earn. Decades ago, he hadn’t bothered with such trivial things and he’d got by just fine on his own.

“We must find shelter for tonight,” said Vesemir. “It looks like the snow is slowing down.”

Geralt had no wish to stop. The more time they spent sleeping, the further away Ciri got from them. He hasn’t been sleeping anyway; he always stayed by the fire and scanned his surroundings when everyone turned in. He’d let his guard down when Dandelion had chased him through the woods, and that had cost him Ciri. He wouldn’t let it happen again.

“We’ll find her,” Eskel said from beside him, and Geralt glared at him before dismounting Roach. “Are you never going to speak to me again? I’ve apologised enough, and more importantly, Ciri forgave me.”

He continued to ignore him and rummaged through one of the saddlebags. 

“Geralt, talk to me,” Eskel touched his bicep and Geralt responded by thumping his hand. 

“Leave me be.”

Geralt grabbed his bag and tossed it over his shoulder. They’d stopped at a small clearing that would suit them all for the night. Geralt caught sight of Dandelion helping Jaskier off his horse, he smirked like an idiot when she kissed the back of his hand like one would to a maiden. Jaskier still walked with a limp from his injury, and Geralt felt bad for tackling him down the embankment. There had been a brief moment of stillness as their bodies lay tangled together at the bottom. He’d thought nothing of it until now, but it had been unusually warm being intertwined with him.

He glanced away as Jaskier caught his curious eyes. Geralt tossed his bag down in the middle of the clearing and disappeared to find some firewood. He just wanted to find Ciri and get her some help. She needed to learn to control her magical abilities, and right now, she was probably under massive amounts of stress.

He would find her eventually. Nothing could keep them apart. They were destined to be around one another.

After a while of searching, Geralt gathered an armful of wood and returned to the clearing. He paused at the sight of Lambert and Dandelion toe-to-toe.

“Geralt,” Lambert said with a smile. “This little lady reckons she can take me in a fist fight.”

Dandelion’s face was furious.

“You do know she’s an Alp,” replied Geralt, and he saw Jaskier nearby looking confused. He wondered if he’d had the chance to sit down and talk to his sister properly about it. 

“That doesn't mean shit to me, so what do you say?”

Geralt dropped the wood in front of Vesemir who was crouched down looking through his bag. “I say she could kick your ass.”

Lambert looked shocked for a few moments, then he burst out laughing. Dandelion moved quickly and yanked his arm behind his back and flipped him onto the cold ground. She immediately backed away with an evil smirk when Lambert got to his feet with fire in his eyes.

“Now now, children,” Vesemir said. “Calm down.”

Lambert stormed off with a bruised ego and Dandelion slid down a tree looking satisfied with herself. Jaskier moved to sit by her but he didn’t strike up a conversation. Things were obviously still tense between them after their fight. Geralt didn’t like the sadness on Jaskier’s face, and something deep inside of him wanted to make him smile.

But why? Why was his happiness so important?

They all settled down for the night. Fabric was strung from trees to protect them from the snow while they slept, and smaller fires were lit around the clearing to keep them warm. Geralt stayed in the middle and listened to Vesemir’s loud snores. 

Gods it annoyed him. Even though he struggled to sleep anyway, he definitely couldn’t attempt to with such an obnoxious sound nearby. 

Once again, Geralt found his eyes seeking out Jaskier. He was curled up on a bedroll beside his sister, who scarily slept with an expensive looking dagger in her hand. He wouldn’t be the one to wake her up from her sleep, not unless he wanted to end his life. He hated to say it but there was a softness about her as she slept; she looked more like Jaskier amidst slumber, and Geralt wondered what their parents had been like. He wondered what had led to them ending up at the orphanage.

Geralt shook his head and focused on the fire. He needed to forget about Jaskier; he’d made it very clear that they weren’t friends anymore, but that made Geralt question whether they had ever been friends. Sure, it had taken Geralt a while to warm to the idea, but after spending so much time with him it had kind of just happened. It had been the same with Yennefer — although their bond had been the magical kind — but there was something different about Jaskier. The littlest things pleased him, such as when Geralt went to the party where he met Queen Calanthe for the first time. Jaskier had smiled at him softly, and in that moment Geralt had to pause all of his thoughts because he’d never seen such sincerity on his face before.

Yes, it was definitely the little things. And it was the little things that Geralt always missed. He perceived them to be boring and mediocre, but he always forgets that people see the world differently to him. For instance, Jaskier would undoubtedly forgive Dandelion for lying to him yet Geralt couldn’t find it within himself to forgive Eskel — and even he could admit that Eskel had made an honest mistake. 

With a frustrated sigh, Geralt grabbed his sword from the ground and started to clean it. Each swipe of the tattered cloth against steel released puffs of his bottled up tension. He just needed to stop worrying. Everyone had trained Ciri well enough for her to defend herself. Everything would be fine. 

If they had Yennefer, finding Ciri would be a lot easier, but since the annoying woman had decided to go galavanting across the continent, the search would take longer. 

Geralt’s eyes returned to Jaskier and his sister. He remembered how he’d craved to be near Yennefer when they slept, and that need was still within him, he just didn’t want Yen. So who did he want then? A wench from a brothel? Geralt shook his head. Perhaps he was just jealous that Jaskier had someone he could be close to. Witchers are like family in a way but they didn’t come from the same parents — maybe he wanted that, a true family? 

Suddenly, a whimper came from Dandelion. She twitched in her sleep and her fingers tightened around her blade. She made the sound again, then Jaskier drowsily flung his arm over her and she rolled onto his chest and returned to a peaceful sleep.

Why did his heart ache at the sight? 

Geralt put his sword back down and rubbed a hand over his face. He tossed another log onto the fire with a sigh. However, his sigh got stuck in his throat as he heard the sound of someone running. He grabbed his sword and whirled around to find a filthy Ciri at the end of it.

“Geralt!” She screeched and before he could move, she jumped on him with her arms and legs wrapped around his waist. She stunk of the wild and she was unbelievably cold. Her shriek had startled everyone awake, and Geralt caught sight of Vesemir getting to his feet.

Geralt put her down and sat her next to the fire. “Get some blankets!” He snapped at Eskel before he could say anything to Ciri. 

Vesemir opened the pot that contained some broth and poured it into a wooden bowl. “Have this, my dear,” he passed it to her and she gladly took it. Geralt dampened a cloth and started to wipe the mud from her face.

“Are you hurt anywhere?” He asked and she shook her head.

“A few bruises,” she whispered then sipped the broth.

“What happened?” Lambert sat down beside her.

“I’m not quite sure,” she explained. “They wanted my blood to perform a ritual. Then they were going to take me to Nilfgaard.”

“Fuck,” Geralt grunted then he wrung out the cloth. He briefly glanced over at Jaskier to find he was sitting down nearby resting against Dandelion.

Vesemir cleared his throat. “How long has it been since you escaped?”

“I’m not sure,” she whispered.

“Are they chasing you?”

She nodded.

“Should’ve mentioned that first!” Lambert snapped then shot to his feet.

Everyone got moving and cleared up their small camp. Geralt stayed glued to Ciri’s side and wrapped her up in blankets before lifting her onto Roach. Eskel brought over Geralt’s things and he thanked him with a nod. The fire was extinguished by Dandelion kicking mud on it, and Geralt saw her staring at something in the distance. 

“What is it?” Geralt shouted over at her.

“We’ve got company!” She grabbed her bag and ran over to her horse. Geralt squinted through the trees and saw the distant flicker of lights. He swung up onto Roach and took off through the trees. They sped through the woods for a while and every so often he would glance over his shoulder to scan the area. Whoever was chasing them wasn’t on horseback so they had that advantage. After a while, they broke free from the woods and out onto the open fields. He could see the mountains off in the distance and the village up ahead. They couldn’t stop there though, the mages had already burnt down one place, they might happily burn down a village. So, they kept going into the night. Their horses were pushed to their limits until they arrived at the next town. It was more packed here so they could easily blend in with the people. Vesemir knew the place well and guided them over to a stable beside an inn. 

“This should be safe until morning,” said Vesemir as he dismounted. Geralt got off Roach then helped Ciri down. She looked around deliriously and he grabbed her shoulders.

“What’s wrong?”

She snapped out of her absentminded state with a squeak. “I...we have to go back!”

“I think the colds got to her head,” remarked Lambert. “Go tuck her in Geralt.”

“Fuck off!” Geralt snapped back. “We can’t go back—“

“I need food!” Dandelion cut him off by barging into him and going inside with Jaskier behind her. 

Geralt returned his attention to Ciri. “Why do we have to go back?”

“Cahir.”

Geralt’s blood ran cold. Had he been with the mages? He was going to kill him with his bare hands. 

“What did he do?” Geralt hissed through gritted teeth.

“He…” she swallowed hard. “He saved me.”

Geralt’s hands fell from her shoulders. “What?”

Eskel came up beside him. “What do you mean?”

“Let’s not overwhelm her,” added Vesemir. “She’s been through a lot, let her sleep—“

“Explain, Ciri.”

She stared up at him with tears in her eyes. “He was locked up in the dungeon with me. He was captured by the mages so they could get money from Nilfgaard for his return. But the thing is, Nilfgaard has disowned him for some reason. He got me out of there.”

Geralt didn’t like the way this was going. “He killed your family.”

“I know,” her voice broke. “Of course I know that, Geralt.”

“Why do I sense a ‘but’ at the end of that sentence?” Eskel grumbled.

“But, he helped me escape. We would’ve got out together but when they realised we’d broken out of the cells, he stayed behind to delay them. We have to go back—“

“He’s dead!” Geralt snapped.

“You don’t know that!”

“That’s enough now,” Vesemir grabbed Ciri’s arm. “I’ll get her settled down for the night. Go and calm down, Geralt.”

Geralt stayed standing beside Roach with a furious look on his face. Why would she want to go back for Cahir? He was pure evil. She’d once told him that he haunted her dreams, yet, she wanted to go back and save the fool. 

“Let’s go and have some proper food,” said Eskel. 

He reluctantly followed Eskel inside and they headed over to where Jaskier and Dandelion were sitting. They were sharing a jug of water between them and gossiping about something. When Geralt sat down with a thump, Jaskier looked startled for a few moments then kept his eyes on the table. 

Would he truly never forgive him?

***~***

Jaskier walked into the Inn behind Dandelion. It was overcrowded enough that if the mages somehow found them they could slip away easily. Dandelion pushed through the crowd and headed straight towards the man pouring a drink for a customer. She listed off her food order and the poor sod glanced at Jaskier in confusion. Dandelion clicked her fingers in front of his face and repeated the order.

It had been an eventful few days. He’d watched Geralt worry about Ciri and found himself at a loss of what to do. He shouldn’t feel this way. Why does it matter if he’s upset? It’s not like Geralt had given a second thought to him after he’d shouted at him on the mountain. 

Well, he had apologised. 

Perhaps he was being too harsh on him, but Jaskier needed time to brood. He’d convinced himself that it would just be him and Dandelion from now onwards, but with Geralt back in his life, he felt himself yearning to go back to his old life. He missed performing for people. He missed getting into trouble with Lords. He missed ignoring that sick feeling inside of him; it was easier to ignore when he was chasing after women and being fawned over. A lot easier. 

“I don’t think we’re going to get a table,” he said to her.

She took the jug of water from the man and he grabbed the cups. “Yes we will.”

“No we won’t — and she’s already off,” he muttered to himself. Dandelion walked over to a table of four men and started saying something that Jaskier couldn’t hear. It didn’t take long for the men to get up and leave and she waved him over with a smile. 

Jaskier sat down and poured himself a drink. He reached under the table to rub his sore leg and Dandelion scolded him for touching it. After a few moments of silence, she turned to him with a serious expression on her face.

“Shall we talk ‘bout it?”

“About what?”

“Me bein’ who I am.”

Jaskier sighed. “Why did you lie?”

“I…” she took a sip of her water then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “I hate that part of me, Jaskier, and the longer I could keep it away from you the better. I was kidnapped by a vampire cult lookin’ to turn children, or perhaps they just wanted to see if it would kill a child, but it didn’t kill me. We must have a distant relative who is a vampire because apparently our blood is high-ranking. So, they didn’t realise they were turning me into a strong vampire. I managed to escape a few years later. They tortured me.”

Jaskier’s mouth settled into a sad frown and he placed his hand on her shoulder. “When I got out, I needed to stay where it was cold to survive. The sunlight only affects me further down South, but up North the sun hardly gives off heat with the clouds covering it. I fled up the Blue Mountains eventually, and they lost sight of me. They stopped tracking me after a while, but I know they are still out there. You see, vampires feel a connection to the one who turned them, and I can still feel him breathing.”

“I’m sorry,” Jaskier grabbed her hand. “I wish I could’ve done something.”

“You were a baby, Jaskier,” she squeezed his hand. “If it wasn’t me it would’ve been another child.”

“What happened after that?”

“I went further up the mountain because I could survive up there. I eventually came across the Blue Bears,” she smiled. “They were all gathered by a hot spring. I could feel an aura of magic up there, and it made me feel safe. I stayed up there for two years with them before I ventured down to civilisation. Then, I learnt to fight. I picked it up quite fast, and before I knew it, I was causin’ havoc everywhere.”

Jaskier chuckled. “That sounds about right,” a sudden thought struck him. “Dandelion?”

She hummed in response.

“How do you have so much money?”

Her jaw clenched and he could see she was grinding her teeth. “It’s...I…fuck.”

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“I do,” she muttered. “You deserve to know, I’m just not proud of it.”

“You worked in a brothel didn’t you?”

“What?!” She started laughing hysterically. “No, dear brother, I did nothin’ of the sort,” she started to snort. “Of course I didn't whore myself out. I…” her laughter stopped. “I tried a new line of work when I’d finally got the grasp of fightin’. I got involved with a shady group of people, and soon enough, my skills were noticed and someone wanted to hire me to kill someone. The person was rich and a bastard.”

Jaskier’s heart dropped. His sister had killed many people, but there was something different about being paid to kill a random person.

“The man was offerin’ a large sum that would mean I could live comfortably for a long time. So, I did it. Turned out though that the reason he was payin’ so high was because it wasn’t supposed to be easy. I returned to collect my money and he refused to pay — said I didn’t do it properly. I...I realised I’d just killed an innocent man, and now I had no money to show for it.”

“Then what happened?”

“What do you think?” She finished off her drink. “I got my money.”

“You killed him?”

“Yep, slit his throat and cut out his innards.”

Jaskier flinched then took a sip of water.

“I’m not proud of what I did.”

“I never said you were,” he offered her a smile. “Thank-you for telling me.”

She started to laugh. “Still can’t believe you thought I worked in a brothel.”

Jaskier joined in with her laughter and chose to leave his prying questions for later. They moved closer to one another and started to whisper about the nearby man who was falling asleep in his chair. Soon enough the others came inside. Jaskier spotted Vesemir talking to the Innkeeper with an arm wrapped around a crying Ciri. Then, Geralt and Eskel made their way over and sat down opposite.

“That was quite the adventure,” said Eskel with a smile.

He’d spent some of the journey talking to Eskel, and Jaskier thought him to be kind and unworthy of the stereotype that came along with being a witcher. He had a kind heart that much he could tell, and he had a decent sense of humor that wasn’t dry like a certain Witcher’s.

“Have you ordered some food?” Jaskier could tell that Eskel was trying to fill the awkward silence between them. 

“Course I ‘ave,” muttered Dandelion. “Didn’t get anythin’ for you guys though.”

“Oh,” Eskel coughed. “Didn’t expect you to.”

“Good, cuz I’m about to lay some ground rules,” she poked the table with her index finger. “My food is my food. Don’t help yourself to it.”

Jaskier smiled behind his cup. “She only shares with me when she’s in a good mood,” he added just as Geralt locked eyes with him. They stared blankly at one another then Dandelion broke their little contest by pulling his arm.

“Don’t much care for you,” said Dandelion directly to Geralt.

“And why’s that?” Geralt linked his fingers together and rested them on the table. 

“You broke my little brother’s heart.”

Jaskier instinctively hit the back of her head, then his hand flew to her mouth as she glared at him. 

“She’s been drinking,” Jaskier said quickly. 

“It’s a jug of water,” replied Eskel. 

Jaskier could feel his face flooding with colour and he refused to look over at Geralt who was staring at the side of his head. Where had Dandelion got such a conclusion from? It wasn’t true. Geralt had never had any affect on his heart. Never.

Well that was a lie…

The food finally arrived and Jaskier managed a smile when he saw Eskel’s eyes widen. The server put down six plates of food and Dandelion started to organise them in the order she wanted to consume them in. She ignored the bemused stares and dug into her warm meals. 

Suddenly, Jaskier felt something against his good leg. He glanced under the table to see Geralt was nudging him with his boot. Jaskier ignored him until he kicked quite hard and his eyes flew to his bright ones. There was a look on his face that Jaskier had never seen before. 

“Bad news I’m afraid,” Vesemir’s voice snapped Jaskier out of his daze. He pulled over a chair and sat down to pour himself a drink. “Ciri informed me of what the mages told her. Nilfgaard aren’t just coming after her now, they also want you.”

For a brief moment, Jaskier thought Vesemir was looking at him but he soon realised he was staring at Dandelion beside him. She stopped in the middle of bringing food to her mouth and furrowed her eyebrows.

“The fuck did I do?”

“They watched you turn during the full moon,” he said. “The mages informed Nilfgaard and apparently they’ve taken an interest in you as a weapon. Previously, they wanted you dead for gutting a Lord that they were allied with.”

Oh shit. Jaskier turned to look at her but she didn’t give away any emotion on her face.

“However, they’ve had a change of heart,” Vesemir tapped his fingers against the table. “You’re not safe anymore.”

“I wasn’t before,” she muttered, putting down her fork. “Shit, this is just great.”

“You can always stay with us,” he said. “We’re keeping Ciri safe—“

“Yeah and you’ve done such a good job at that.”

“Hey!” Geralt snapped, slamming his fist against the table. 

“It’s true,” she picked back up her fork and started eating again. “I’ve got to go back to the Blue Mountains to check on the bears, so I’m afraid I’ll decline.”

Geralt gave Dandelion a fierce glare then turned his attention to Jaskier. “What about you, Jaskier?”

“Erm...I-I…”

Then, Lambert came crashing over. He picked up the jug of water and realised what it was, then waved over a woman to bring over some proper drinks.

“Where have you been?” asked Eskel.

“Having a shit.”

“Lovely.”

The conversation moved on, and strangely enough, Dandelion started laughing and drinking with Lambert. He would’ve thought that after their spat before they would stay clear of one another, but he was wrong. He leaned over and told his sister he was stepping outside for some fresh air. He got up with a small wave goodbye and disappeared out into the empty stable. 

Why had Dandelion said that to Geralt? Jaskier’s heart hadn’t been broken, had it? He shook his head and slumped back against the wall. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to do next. A part of him missed the adventure and chaos that followed Geralt around, but it wouldn’t just be them anymore. Geralt had gained a new group of friends, so it wouldn’t be the same. He could always go off with Dandelion up the mountains where it was cold — he really hates the cold. It would have to be the latter, he couldn’t leave his sister behind. Not after everything they’ve been through.

“What’s wrong?”

Jaskier jumped and turned around to stare at Geralt. He had that look on his face again that Jaskier couldn’t understand. He looked torn between angry and something else. Sometimes he wished Dandelion would keep her mouth shut about certain things.

“Nothing,” Jaskier walked over to lean against the archway of the stable. The path leading to the noisy Inn was empty, and if one of them got a room at the front, they’d be able to spot the mages coming from a long way away.

“What did…” he trailed off and Jaskier saw him shake his head. 

“I want to be alone, Geralt.”

“When I said those things up on the mountain, I was angry—“

“I don’t want to talk about it!” snapped Jaskier. “I came out here to be alone.”

“Why won’t you listen to me?” Geralt growled back. “I’m trying to do the decent thing and apologise.”

“Thank-you, how noble of you.”

“Jaskier this isn’t a joke.”

“I never said it was!”

They glared at one another until Jaskier turned away from him. “I just want some peace and quiet.” 

“Jaskier, listen to me—“

“No, you listen to me!” Jaskier walked up to Geralt and jabbed his finger against his chest. He ignored the way it made him feel, and he would forever deny the way his stomach flipped from the slightest touch. “You’ve never listened to me, you never do what I ask of you—“

“I went to that damned party—“

“Which still ended up being about you!” Jaskier wanted to thump him hard. “Just do this one thing for me, please.”

Geralt suddenly grabbed his arm and Jaskier began punching his chest. “Let me go, you overly grown oaf—“

Geralt’s yell cut him off. “Why did she say that?!” 

Jaskier froze. He could feel his warm breath against his cheeks. 

“Say what?” Jaskier whispered back.

“About your heart.”

Jaskier felt the heart in question plummet to the ground. He needed to think of something to say fast because it wasn’t true. Dandelion must’ve misinterpreted something he’d said. 

“She makes things up all the time.”

Geralt’s grip tightened on his arm. “She doesn’t seem like the type of person to lie about something like that.”

“You don’t know her very well then; she always lies, she’s a compulsive liar.”

“No, you are!” Geralt shook him. “I’ve apologised, Jaskier, what else do you want me to say?!”

“I want you to let me go!” Jaskier pushed at his chest but he didn’t budge, so they were both left to glare at one another. He wasn’t sure how long passed, but they stayed that way for a long time. Geralt’s eyes would move over his face while Jaskier continued to glare daggers at him. Then, something shifted. He wasn’t sure how or why, but something changed. One moment he was content to glare at him then the next he couldn’t breathe. His chest was tight and his heart began to beat rapidly. 

Geralt’s touch was starting to burn. And if the emotionless Witcher was feeling the same way as Jaskier, he was doing a good job at hiding it.

“Please,” Jaskier said deeply. “Let me go.”

He did so, with force. Jaskier staggered backwards a few steps, then Geralt stormed inside without another word. Jaskier watched the door fall shut then he slid down the wall and buried his face in his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there's more angst and brooding to come unfortunately :D Let me know what you think! Cahir's fate is up in the air at the moment but perhaps Ciri and a certain someone may come together to save him....hmm? Cahir will have a love interest in this, can you guess who? Next chapter, Geralt awakens something embarrassing in Jaskier's trousers ;)


	9. Shame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier has a "problem"...
> 
> [Song: Faouzia - Bad Dreams](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kq0XPWVe3AE)

**Chapter Nine: Shame.**

_ _

_ Northern Kingdoms, Kaedwen, Ban Ard. _

Gods he missed the warmth of the sun. He missed the lively beaches and the sound of waves crashing against the shore. There was nothing appealing about getting damp from snowflakes and feeling the breeze turn his clothes solid. Years ago, Jaskier wouldn’t have put up with it. He would be riding south by now to find a tavern to sing in or a woman to seduce. But the person he was now wasn’t like that. No, he had other people in his life that required him to put himself last. He wished he was like Dandelion. She somehow managed to put him and herself first at the same time. He’d never quite mastered such an art.

They were back in Ban Ard. He watched from afar as the group of insanely large men talked to Selexa. Eskel had a protective hand placed on Ciri’s shoulder as Vesemir led the conversation. Selexa seemed cautious about something, but Vesemir’s words were slowly calming her down. Jaskier hoped they could help Ciri, she seemed nice enough. However, he could do without her persistent whining about going to save Cahir. Jaskier knew who he was and he wasn’t keen to see him anytime soon, but after hearing Ciri’s recollection of what happened, he was sure he was dead. He wasn’t like Geralt who survived against the odds. He wasn’t built that way. 

Jaskier found his eyes wandering to Geralt. He was standing quietly throughout the exchange and his face was void of emotion. He recalled that night two days ago. He remembered the way his skin had burnt beneath his touch, and how for the briefest moment while they stared at each other, he’d felt the urge to kiss him.

To kiss him. What a stupid thought. 

Jaskier shook the snow from his hair and rubbed his arms to keep him warm. Why was it colder down here than up the mountain? There was a small shack near the hot springs where the Blue Bears resided, and he’d spent warmer nights there than down here. Whenever he followed Dandelion up to the peaks, he’d play the lute she’d got him while she disappeared to tend to the bears. Now that it occurred to him, she always went at random times at night, which meant she was probably turning into an Alp. She always requested that he sing  _ An Ode to an Orphan _ because it was the song he’d written just for her. 

He felt sorry for her as well as feeling mildly creeped out that they had high-ranking vampire blood. He couldn’t begin to imagine what that had been like for her to go through, and he wondered who it was that had turned her. Perhaps they could hunt him down next and kill him.

Yes, Jaskier would gladly kill him. 

Dandelion came up beside him with her usual smirk that caused trouble. “Stop doin’ that,” she said.

“Doing what?”

“Starin’ at him like that, people might get the wrong idea.”

Jaskier swallowed hard and gave her a perplexed look. “I don’t know what you are talking about. I’m just trying to understand what they are saying.”

“Yes, but Geralt hasn’t said anythin’ yet so why are you starin’ at him?” The smirk on her face grew wider like she knew more than she should. And how could she possibly know the truth? He hadn’t uttered a word to her about it, and he wasn’t sure he ever would. 

He could be hanged for it in some places. And he supposed so could she. If the wrong person caught her doing the illegal things she normally does she’d be hanged, leaving him all alone.

What a frightful thought.

“Do we need to have a talk?”

“Shut up,” Jaskier grumbled. “There’s nothing to talk about. I still haven’t forgiven you for saying that he broke my heart.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “I speak nothin’ but the truth. You brooded like a heartbroken maiden.”

“No I didn’t!” He exclaimed. Why did she like to make things up?

“Oh, so ya didn’t write a song ‘bout him?”

Jaskier paused while she laughed.

“See, he did break your heart.”

She walked off and he marched after her. “How did you know that?”

“I went through your things.”

Jaskier gasped. “You—You spineless bitch! I’ve never gone through your possessions. How dare you go through mine!” 

She turned to look at him and walked backwards. “I liked it. ‘Witness the Fall’ is definitely a song I’d love to hear!”

“I-I can’t believe you read it!” He was flabbergasted. He’d written it a few days after he’d parted ways from Geralt and he hadn’t looked at it since. Had he written something embarrassing? Yes, quite probably. The smirk on Dandelion’s face lit his body up with fury, and he managed to catch her and get her in a headlock. “I hate you! This is so embarrassing! Why would you even bring that up?!”

Dandelion laughed the whole time and a few people stared at them as they scrambled down the market street in a scuffle. 

“It was quite beautiful,” she laughed and easily got out of his headlock. “You should sing it to him—“ she screeched as she dodged his fist but she was too quick and managed to get him in the stomach. “How did it go again? ‘Pay attention to me, Geralt, please pay attention to me!’”

Jaskier stared at her in horror. “It definitely doesn’t say that! I don’t remember what I wrote exactly, but I would never be so brazen.”

“Sure,” she smirked again and they returned to play fighting. That was until they bumped into someone. Jaskier was the first to apologise like always and he had to nudge Dandelion to remind her of her manners.

The man looked like a guard from Ard Carraigh. He was a brute of a man and had a nasty look on his face as he looked between them. “Purple hair,” he said as his eyes finally paused on Dandelion.

“What of it?” Dandelion snapped back matching his glare.

“You're coming with me,” he grabbed her arm. “You mutilated a merchant from Ard Carraigh and you will answer for your crimes.”

He must be talking about the merchant that she stabbed in the hand. Gods, he should’ve known that would come back and bite her in the arse.

Jaskier watched her hand fly to the dagger on her hip. “Don’t resist!” Jaskier shouted. “Just...go with them,” he tried to give her a look that would signal that he would get the others for help. He didn’t want her to kill anybody else because there were more witnesses around that would make it so they would be unable to return here ever again. 

Dandelion gave him a confused look as other guards turned up. She allowed the men to pat her down and take away her knives. Jaskier saw the corner of her mouth twitch to smile as they didn’t notice the small blades she hid in the straps of her corset. 

“Go, Jaskier, I don’t want you to witness your sister’s shame,” she faked a sob and Jaskier rolled his eyes as he disappeared down the market street to find the others. 

He knew she wasn’t at risk of getting hurt. He was more worried about the guards. Yes, the overly large guard could probably take her on, but the others looked to be fresh and new — meaning they weren’t immune to her manipulative ways.

Jaskier hurried back towards the academy and found Geralt talking to Lambert and Eskel. He ran over gasping for air and he held up his hand so they’d give him a minute to catch his breath.

“They’ve...fuck...bloody hell I’m unfit…” he stood up straight and shook himself off. He suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder, and when he realised it was Geralt, he froze. They hadn’t spoken since that night in the stable. And he found himself wanting to shout at him again, but now wasn’t the time.

“Jaskier,” said Eskel, snapping him out of his daze.

“Oh, right! Dandelion’s been taken by guards from Ard Carraigh,” he explained. “For what she did to the merchant.”

“Fuck,” said Lambert. “How long ago was this?”

“Just.”

“Let’s get the horses and go,” Eskel ordered and Jaskier watched him and Lambert head towards their horses. His eyes wandered back to Geralt whose hand was still burning a hole into his doublet. 

“Get off,” he muttered and shook his hand away. Geralt grunted in response and headed over to the horses.

Jaskier was quick to follow and he got on his horse to lead the way through the city of Ban Ard. He hoped that they hadn’t got far, but luck wasn’t on his side. They passed through the gates and spotted the small party heading over the peak of a hill and disappearing out of sight onto the trade road.

“Shit,” muttered Eskel. “We have to stop them before they reach Ard Carraigh.”

“How?” asked Jaskier.

“I don’t know,” he replied.

“Best do something before she does,” Lambert said. 

“What are you implying?” Jaskier questioned, although he had the same thought. He just didn’t like the judgement coming from others who didn’t know her well. Perhaps he should try to stop justifying her actions.

“I’m implying that she’s quick to anger,” Lambert tapped his horse to move and they followed him. The people thinned out as they travelled up the hill, and Jaskier was relieved to see the caged cart rocking in the distance with no other people passing by. It meant that if something did go wrong they wouldn’t be able to call forth other witnesses. 

They slowed down as they neared and before the guards took notice of them, Jaskier was yanked from his horse. His yelp was stifled by a strong hand against his mouth, and he suddenly realised he’d been pulled onto Roach. 

And he was in Geralt’s lap. 

Lambert startled Jaskier's horse and it ran off down the left path and this caught the attention of the guards.

Shivers consumed Jaskier’s spine when Geralt pressed his mouth near his ear. “You’re our prisoner,” he whispered deeply. “Play along.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Jaskier’s body went rigid against Geralt’s, but a sensitive part of him refused to remain still. There was a hardness forming in his breeches, and if Geralt so much as noticed it, Jaskier was positive he would grab Geralt’s blade and impale himself on it. 

Why was this happening now? With the women it had always taken a bit more rubbing and attention. Was he really aroused from being this close to him? He felt pathetic. He was pathetic.

It was the large guard that approached first. He looked unhappy to see them. Jaskier caught the moment he recognised him, and he was sure he wasn’t going to buy whatever tale Geralt was going to tell him.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

Lambert cleared his throat and urged his horse closer. “You have our prisoner,” he pointed to Dandelion who waved at the guard when he looked at her. “Her and her brother slipped away from us back in the city. She was ours first and will be tried the way we see fit.”

“Doesn’t matter,” the guard grunted. “We have her now.”

“They are witchers,” a younger guard whispered.

“Aha, witchers,” the brute didn’t look happy, and Jaskier would’ve paid more attention to him but he was trying to calm down his racing mind. Geralt’s arm was wrapped around his waist. Jaskier knew he was only doing it to prove that he was a prisoner, but it was causing way too many emotions to bounce off the confines of his brain. And he was trying to focus on getting his erection to calm the fuck down. 

Eskel cleared his throat. “She killed a fellow brother of ours, and that crime is punishable by death.”

The guard shrugged. “Don’t care. She’s going to be hanged when she arrives at Ard Carraigh, so it doesn’t matter who she goes with.”

“Then you won’t mind handing her over then,” added Lambert with a smirk.

“I’m gonna be hanged for stabbin’ a poxy merchant in the hand?” Dandelion started laughing hysterically. “It was a scratch. Why are all these rich men such pussies?”

Jaskier stared hard at her, trying to communicate the words ‘shut the fuck up’, but she wouldn’t stop laughing. The situation didn't look good for either of them. And he’d be able to focus on it more if Geralt would remove his arm from his body! Gods, his hand was getting closer to the hardness in his lap. He felt his cheeks heat up — he was blushing! He’s never blushed from a woman’s touch before. Why was Geralt stirring up so many complicated feelings inside of him?

“We had her first,” Jaskier felt Geralt’s chest vibrate against his back as he spoke. “We don’t want any trouble. Just hand her over.”

“I don’t think I will,” the guard smirked and Geralt’s arm tightened around his waist. Jaskier instinctively grabbed his forearm so it wouldn’t reach his crotch; he missed the way Geralt’s head tilted down to look at the side of his face in confusion. 

“We can give you money,” said Eskel. “Name your price.”

“I don’t need your dirty money,” he spat on the ground. “Now, if you don’t mind, we’ll march her to her death.”

Jaskier looked over the brute’s shoulder at Dandelion. She had an annoyed look on her face, and his eyes widened as she reached under the left strap of her corset and pulled out a small blade. “Dandelion, don’t you dare—-” 

It was too late. She reached through the bars of the cage and grabbed the hair of a young guard and slit his throat. The blood splattered across the snow covered ground, robbing the young boy of a final plea before his lifeless body fell to the floor. The others had no other choice but to react. Lambert and Eskel charged towards the others, and Geralt jumped off Roach just as the brute got off his own horse, and the pair were locked into a vicious fight.

Jaskier slowly dismounted and watched in horror. He was ashamed of his sister. He’d seen her do worse things, but for some reason this affected him. Some of the soldiers looked to have only just turned eighteen, and she didn’t care. She’s never cared who she kills just as long as she comes out alive at the end of it. And now she’d dragged the witchers into her mess. 

The fight didn't take long. The younger guards were inexperienced and didn’t stand a chance against Eskel and Lambert. They all needed to die so no one would return to Ard Carraigh and shout the news that witchers have gone on a killing spree. 

Jaskier watched as Dandelion smiled from inside the cage.

Who was his sister truly? He wasn’t sure he could save her. He wasn’t sure he could justify her actions anymore. 

The brute went down last and Geralt panted for air as he looked around at the bodies. He clenched his jaw in a way that told Jaskier he was annoyed and disappointed. Eskel found the keys and unlocked the cage then Dandelion jumped down with a content sigh.

“That was fun,” she tapped Eskel’s arm. “Sometimes you can’t reason with people,” she moved to retrieve her stolen daggers.

“We have to go,” said Geralt as he turned away from her and walked towards Jaskier. “Eskel, go and get Vesemir and Ciri. Tell them to meet us in the woods west of here. We’ll need to lay low for a while.”

Eskel got onto his horse and took off towards Ban Ard. Lambert got on his and Dandelion climbed up behind him. She smiled at him in her usual way, but Jaskier’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. She frowned with a tilt of her head. He turned away from her and watched Geralt get onto Roach. He adjusted the reins then held out his hand. 

“Let’s go,” he said deeply.

Jaskier flexed his fingers before he put his hand into Geralt’s and got onto the back of Roach. He put his hand on Geralt’s waist while he adjusted himself in the saddle, but he paused when Geralt looked over his shoulder at him. There was that unknown expression on his face again. They stared at one another for a while. Jaskier swallowed hard before he moved his hand and averted his gaze to his lap.

He was still hard.

Fuck.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! Next chapter will see conflict and...little resolution...


	10. Jealous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Geralt gets jealous and provokes the wrong person...
> 
> Warning: heavy violence between a male and female.
> 
> [Song: Loren Gray - Queen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LaPysMNG94Q)

**Chapter Ten: Jealous**

  
  
  
_ Northern Kingdoms, Kaedwen, Woodlands. _

“We’ve travelled for quite a few days now. Accidentally in the direction of those mages,” explained Vesemir.

Geralt glanced at him from the corner of his eye while leaning against a tree. Then, he returned his gaze across the camp to watch Dandelion showing Ciri a blade. They had been hiding in the sanctuary of the dense woods for four days now. For some reason, Dandelion knew all the best places to hide. Whenever she spoke he sensed arrogance, and it didn’t sit well with him. Not after what she’d done back on the trading road leading from Ban Ard. 

Witchers were created a certain way to be more stronger, and they were trained in a way that made killing much easier. However, she was an Alp. Her kind of vampire had the ability to put people to sleep and induce horrific nightmares, and that’s when they attacked. He’s only ever seen one other Alp before and she’d been seductive in human form and carried herself with grace and decorum. Dandelion was nothing of the sort. Perhaps one would find her beautiful if they stared long enough, or maybe she just wasn’t his type. 

The one thing he was sure of was that she was a danger for Jaskier to be around. She must have something on him otherwise he wouldn’t stick around to deal with her shit. He’d known Jaskier longer than her, and he knew that he spoke up when things got too out of hand. So why wasn’t he doing that now? Alps couldn’t manipulate people, but she must be doing something somehow.

“Geralt,” Vesemir slapped his hand against his shoulder. “You’ve been staring at Dandelion for a while.”

“I don’t much care for her.”

Vesemir hummed, then removed his hand. “She’s been helpful so far.”

“We would be doing just fine without her. Ciri would be in that school right now if it wasn’t for her.”

“Things happen sometimes, Geralt,” he said. “We have to adapt and overcome.”

“You didn’t see the way she killed those guards. She has no remorse.”

“Are you telling me that all the people you’ve killed has been with remorse?”

He had a point. Geralt looked away from her and focused on Vesemir. “I don’t want her influencing Ciri.”

“There have been times when I took away your freedom of choice, and you still resent me for it. Surely you don’t want that for her?”

Geralt’s fingers curled into fists. This wasn’t the same. He was trying to protect Ciri from danger. “She’s manipulative, there’s a difference.”

“How so? What is this truly about?”

Geralt glared at him. He was just trying to protect Ciri, nothing more nothing less. His eyes caught sight of movement and he watched Jaskier head over to his sister. There was a smile on his face as she said something supposedly funny, and he sat down and threw his arm over her shoulder. Anger lit up inside of him and he had to stop himself from charging across the camp to separate them.

“Do you want to know what I think?” Vesemir leaned into him, and before Geralt could decline, he spoke again. “I think that you don’t like that Jaskier has someone more important than you in his life. From what I hear about your travels, he chased you around and depended on you. But now he has someone else and his attention has swayed. You’re jealous.”

What a load of bullshit. He wasn’t jealous. He’d experienced jealousy while under the influence of his wish with Yen, and it wasn’t the same. He truly was only trying to protect Jaskier from danger. It had nothing to do with the way his thoughts became scrambled whenever he thought of him. Nothing.

It certainly had nothing to do with the way it felt when he placed his hand on his waist when they fled Dandelion’s massacre. Nothing. For a split second, Geralt had thought he felt something hard against his back, but he must’ve been mistaken. It must’ve been Jaskier’s dagger.

But he didn’t have a dagger. Not since Geralt threw it when the Inn burnt down. 

“Geralt, you’re zoning out again,” said Vesemir. 

Geralt just grunted in response.

“We need to decide what to do next. Shall we keep hiding for a while or head back to Kaer Morhen?”

“If Ciri can’t go to school in Ban Ard we might as well go back to Kaer Morhen. It’s a safe place.”

“So be it,” said Vesemir before he walked towards the campfire.

Geralt found his eyes returning to Dandelion, and he almost spat when he saw her whispering in Ciri’s ear. He couldn’t begin to imagine what type of poison she was spewing at her. He felt his hand twitch towards his sword. Ciri smiled at whatever was being said, then got to her feet and made her way over. 

“What’s wrong?” She asked.

“What did Dandelion say to you?”

“N-Nothing,” her eyes immediately fell to the ground, signalling that she was lying.

“Ciri,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Fine,” she sighed. “She was just giving me some encouragement to come and speak to you.”

“And why would you need that?”

And why from her? Every moment that went by his distaste for her was turning into hatred, especially with the way she was watching their exchange. Geralt glared at her over Ciri’s shoulder and her smug smile turned into a frown.

“I’ve been...having these dreams,” she whispered, and Geralt immediately looked away from Dandelion to focus on her. 

“What dreams?”

She muttered something he couldn’t hear, even with his heightened senses.

“Ciri, you can tell me.”

“You’re going to get angry.”

“You don’t know that.”

She fiddled with her hands. “You will.”

“Ciri!”

“See!” She snapped. “You’re already angry with me.”

“Because you’re not being honest!” He pushed away from the tree and stalked closer to her. “What have you been dreaming about?”

“Cahir.”

Oh. 

Geralt gritted his teeth then cracked his neck. No, he wasn’t angry. He was positively furious. She stared at him with shiny eyes filled with tears, and he had to remind himself to calm down. Shouting at her would only cause her to draw further away, and back into the arms of someone like Dandelion. 

He truly did try to stay calm, but Ciri said something that made him believe that Dandelion had truly sunk her claws into her. “I’m going back to save him.”

He laughed. Not like an insane person, just a small puff of air while he contemplated what she’d said. 

“I can go on my own—“

“Not a chance,” his voice was calm in a deadly sort of way. “Those mages want you. We’re going back to Kaer Morhen.”

“He saved me—“

“I don’t care!” He yelled suddenly. “He’s dead!”

“You don’t know that!” She shouted back. “My dreams are telling me to save him.”

“You’re a child who has an active imagination—“

“Oh, so I’m a child now?” Ciri crossed her arms with a disgusted look on her face.

“Yes, and if you want to act like one I’ll treat you like one,” he was almost toe-to-toe with her. 

There was a voice in his mind telling him to go for a walk to calm down, but it was meek in comparison to the voice that roared in anger. He needed to kill something or fight someone. And he realised he was about to get the chance to do so when Dandelion made her way over.

She pulled Ciri away and led her over to Jaskier. Something inside of Geralt paused when he spotted the look on Jaskier’s face.

Disappointment.

Well, this would be the second time he’d seen such a look on his face. The first time being up the mountain.

“What have you done to her?” Geralt said.

Dandelion turned around with her usual smile on her face. “I dunno what you mean?”

“What have you said to her?”

“Other than givin’ her advice, nothin’,” she walked closer so they were staring at each other in the middle of the camp. Geralt wanted to fight her. He wanted to test her claim that she could take him down, because she couldn’t. She was too short and lacked muscle. He could kill her easily.

“You do realise what that bastard has done to her family? And you’re encouraging her to go and save him.”

“She’s allowed to make her own choices,” she said. “None of us here have the authority to tell her otherwise.”

“I do!” He seethed through gritted teeth. “I protect her, not you!”

“She’s old enough to make her own damn choices—“

“Yes, but I don’t want her taking advice from a fucking psychopath!”

Dandelion turned to look at Jaskier then she clapped her hands together and started laughing. “I’m the psychopath?”

“You’re a danger to us all! You should’ve seen the disgusted look on Jaskier’s face when he watched you kill that guard,” Geralt was trying to get a reaction out of her. He just wanted a reason to fight her. He’d had enough of looking at her and hearing her voice. 

Vesemir got up from near the campfire with a sigh. “Let’s all go our separate ways and cool off—“

“No,” interrupted Dandelion. “Let him finish. Got somethin’ else to get off ya chest?”

“Don’t you think it’s sad what you’ve done to your own brother?” 

And there it was. Geralt almost smirked when she froze. 

“He doesn’t get to do what he likes anymore. He puts up with more than he should, but I’ve known him longer than you, and he would always speak up when things got too much. So, what have you got on him? Or are you just that good at manipulation because no one in their right mind would stick around—“

“You’re wrong,” Jaskier cut him off, and Geralt’s eyes landed on him. He had moved in front of Ciri as if there was a danger he would attack her. There was a look on his face that softened his features but hardened his eyes. He’d seen Jaskier angry before yet this was beyond that. “You don’t get it do you?”

“Get what?”

“I love her,” he admitted, and Geralt suddenly stood up straighter as something tight laced around his heart. “Yes, there are things that she does that I’m ashamed of, but I’m still going to stand by her. I’m not as weak-minded as you seem to think. I argue with her and call her out on her bullshit, but I do all of those things out of love. The sad thing about everything you’ve just said is that you claim to have known me longer than her. Yet, you don’t know me at all. Not even a little bit. But in such a short space of time, she knows me a hell of a lot better than you ever did or ever will.”

There was no emotion on Geralt’s face as he stared at Jaskier. He probably would’ve been able to calm down had Eskel not come up behind Jaskier and put a hand on his shoulder.

Vesemir was right. He was jealous, but of what?

“Fine, have fun with your pet Alp. Let’s hope she doesn’t kill you in your sleep,” Geralt turned away to go somewhere to calm down. This would all blow over eventually and they could return to Kaer Morhen. 

All of that would’ve been true, had he not put his back to her. He suddenly staggered forward with a burning pain in his back. His armour had protected him somewhat, but not completely. Blood started to trickle down his spine as he turned at an awkward angle to pull out the knife that had been thrown into his back. He grimaced in pain as he stared down at the steel blade. It wasn’t one of her fancy daggers; he clearly wasn’t worth that much to her.

And he had to acknowledge the irony. He’d been trying to get a reaction from her so they could fight, but all along she’d been doing the same to him. She knew a knife in the back wouldn’t hinder him: it would only anger him. 

She stood there with her throwing arm outstretched and a smug look on her face. That was all he needed. He pulled out his sword and raced across the camp. She was quick, he’d give her that. She stole Lambert’s sword, who had been watching the whole exchange with an amused smile, and managed to block the first hit. They paused, panting for air and looking at one another. He felt the moment his eyes started to turn black, but he was shocked when her’s glowed orange.

They both probably should’ve pulled away and gone their separate ways, but they didn’t. They were alike in that sense, unable to back down from a fight. 

She pushed back and swung at him, but he blocked it with ease. It was like a slow dance filled with rhythmic stomps. One would hit and the other blocked. He was testing to see how skilled she was with a sword, and from what he could tell, she was testing how fast he could move. They were opposites in that sense, he had mastered the sword skill but his size made it hard to move as quickly as her. Their slow dance soon changed into a predatory circle of them moving and staring at one another. 

“Dandelion, stop,” Jaskier said. 

“Let it happen,” he heard Vesemir say. “It was bound to happen eventually.”

And happen it did.

Dandelion moved fast, and their testing dance beforehand was no more. He swung hit after hit but she blocked them too easily. There were moments when he spotted her arms trembling beneath the force of his hits. She wasn’t strong enough, but the more she spun and the more she avoided his attacks, he realised he was getting too old for this. She managed to sneak punches to his face while he got a few sharp elbows to her’s.

They trampled the campsite while she threw things and he dodged them. He accidentally left an opening and she kicked him hard in the chest. He staggered backwards with a menacing growl, then charged towards her with more hits. Geralt almost released a shout of delight when he slashed her white sleeve open causing blood to squirt onto the snow. She skidded to a stop to grab her arm, then pulled her hand away to stare at the blood.

“You fuckin’ cockwod!”

What type of insult was that? 

She came at him again with more power than should be allowed for such a small woman. Her sword was tossed to the ground and she somehow ran up his body, wrapped her legs around his waist and twisted so she was on his back. Her arm was around his neck and he threw himself backwards into a tree; she cried out in pain but tightened her arm around his neck. He did it a few more times until she pulled a chunk of his hair out and he stumbled forwards as she fell from his back. 

He turned with a terrifying growl that vibrated his chest. She scrambled to her feet, skidded along the snow and retrieved her sword. He could feel blood pouring from his nose and a cut somewhere on his face. She didn’t look any better, but she had more stamina than him so he knew she wouldn’t stop until either he was dead or she was.

And then it got worse. They swung and slashed at one another, cutting thin clothes and armour, and painting each other with blood. He’d reached the point of blind anger, and he couldn’t remember why they’d started in the first place. But then he spotted she was slowing down. The cuts on her arms were causing her to hiss in pain when she blocked his hits. He became even more forceful and kept pushing her to walk backwards. Then she left an opening — so she wasn’t perfect, she couldn’t take him down like she claimed to be able to do so easily — and the sword flew across the clearing and he had her against the tree with his sword touching her pale neck.

He panted for air and smirked in a predatory way. His eyes were slowly fading away from their full black colour, and his heightened senses were coming back down. 

However, she smiled. Why did she always smile? 

And that’s when he realised something. He’d been wrong about her. That opening had been intentional. She was perfect when it came to fighting, and if she wasn’t standing in the woods with other witchers, he was sure she would’ve killed him this way. The point of a dagger pressed against his bare abdomen where there was a rip in his armor. He slowly looked down at the intricate blade. It wasn’t straight like a standard one, this dagger had hooks that would make the blade do more damage if pulled out. Then, the upwards angle she held it out made it so she’d puncture and scramble up a lot of his organs. She would’ve killed him before he could’ve slit her throat.

“Are you quite finished?” Vesemir sounded pissed, and Geralt looked over his shoulder at the disappointment on his face. 

Lambert came over and put a hand on Geralt’s shoulder, and Geralt responded by pulling away and storming across the camp. He slid down a nearby tree and tried to gain control of his breathing. 

He was in pain. 

He glanced over at Dandelion who was sitting beneath a tree trying to catch her own breath, but unlike him, Jaskier was at her side. He too looked pissed off, but there was a softness to his face as he checked over her cuts. Nobody came to check up on him, not even Ciri. 

Time seemed to move around him, and their camp was soon repaired and by the time the sky turned dark, he finally moved. He stormed off into the woods to find a stream to wash himself up in. He had enough potions in his pouch to help him heal, but there was nothing in there to help with his bruised ego.

It wasn’t because she was a woman. Perhaps he could pretend that was why it hurt so much. No, it was simply because she had Jaskier fawning over her in the way he had once done to him. It was because she could fight and deal with tough decisions yet still take into consideration Jaskier’s feelings. 

It was because she could do everything wrong and Jaskier would forgive her.

He was jealous. 

Geralt cleaned himself off in the stream then returned to camp. Eskel handed him a bowl of broth and he ate it in silence. Dandelion was wearing a too large doublet that looked like one of Jaskier's, while she used a needle and thread to sew together her shirt. He should probably fix his own armour, and he thought to ask Ciri but she walked across the camp and sat beside Dandelion and began sewing the hole on her breeches. Vesemir caught him staring, so Geralt focused on his food until it came time to sleep.

He decided to attempt to get some sleep for once. He lay on his mat and adjusted the bag beneath his head. It was quite cold but it was bearable. He tried to focus on the noises in the woods but none of that worked. He wasn’t sure how long he lay there with his eyes closed and his mind racing. 

Geralt must’ve slipped away into sleep at some point because he awoke to warmth. He didn’t open his eyes straight away, he just basked in the comfort it made him feel. But he soon realised it was somebody’s touch. His eyes flew open and the morning sun was being blocked by Jaskier’s head. He sat up suddenly and stared into his startled eyes. 

Geralt’s eyes followed his throat as he swallowed hard, then his eyes followed a path over his jaw, across his lips until they landed on his warm irises.

“What?” He asked deeply. “What’s wrong?”

“Dandelion’s gone,” he whispered.

Geralt’s eyes flew over to the empty spot near to where Jaskier slept. 

“Ciri’s gone too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bow down to Dandelion...she's a Queen. Believe it or not, she might become Geralt's bff? Next chapter, Ciri's about to regret her decision, and the chapter after that will feature jealous Geralt again, but it's Jaskier who puts him in his place ;)


End file.
